Through Persistence, Determination, and Stalking
by MonPetitCoeur
Summary: What Blaine Anderson wants, Blaine Anderson gets. He's dapper, rich, and he has an awesome voice. Everybody loves him. His latest conquest? The pretty blue-eyed stranger he met on the bus.But what, something's wrong. Why didn't his charms work on him? AU.
1. Did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?

**Title: **Seasons of Love

**Summary: **"Honestly", Blaine grinned, "you had me at…'mmmgoawayFinn'. The way you were snuggling into me—it was so adorable. YOU were so adorable. You still are."

**A/N: ***headdesk* Prelims were _awful_, I tell you. Plain torture. *shudders* I think the pinkish soft ooze spilling unto my test paper was actually bits and pieces of my _brain_—or what was left of it. *facepalm* Plot bunny insisted. Here you go. Sucky title, I know.

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><p><strong>Autumn<strong>

Blaine Anderson never _ever_ experienced a bus ride all his life.

Sure, his family was…well-off when it came to status and err, financial prestige and stuff. But as far as his memory would allow him to remember, he was _always_ fetched and dropped to and from school by _car_. He never had the pleasure of commuting, let alone using public transportation vehicles.

And by the time that he was seventeen, his parents got him a Mercedes Benz (what? He had a thing for beautiful shiny cars.)

When his graduation came and went, he was shipped off to New York, although his parents were telling him that Harvard, Yale, or Cambridge was better than NYU. But thankfully, using his dapper charm and his puppy-dog eyes, he was finally given the permission to get a read: _penthouse_ and not a dorm or an apartment, when he got there.

Still, he had his Ashton Martin with him, so a usually 45-minute drive ended up as 15-20 minutes instead.

And so, when his poor baby was totaled due to some obvious prank by some homophobes (_New York,_ really?) who hated him because of unreasonable personal grudges against him; he took it as a chance to do what he wanted. Not that he has been doing that much lately—he was _spoiled._

"We could give you a lift if you want, Blaine", Wes offered. "You're like, living two blocks away from me. So it won't be much of a hassle or anything."

"I swear if I see those punks" David made a threatening gesture, "I'm going to beat their asses."

"Right", Wes scoffed, "as if you weren't screaming like the little girl you are when Blaine's younger sister went all Bruce Lee on you."

"Hey! I am not _allowed_ to hit a girl, not that I have been planning about it or anything…And don't take her lightly Hughes, once you actually _feel_ the pressure of her fists and her kicks, you would ought to think that it's actually a super duper experience 30-something martial artist kicking your butt. Heck, I thought for a second that she was Chuck Norris!"

"Which specific second? The one where she gave you a headlock or the part where she side swept you and then elbowed your right rib?"

"Why you bitch—"

Blaine chuckled. "Guys! Cut the lovers' spat already. David has a point of being intimidated", David shared a triumphant expression, "I would know. She kicks my ass all the time."

"That's not new", Wes said in a monotone voice.

"Yeah. I'm not surprised when like, pre-school kids bully you and take your lunch money or something", David grinned.

"You're too dapper to hurt a fly—scratch that, you're too dapper to even do _shadow-boxing_."

The curly haired boy raised a bewildered brow. "Shadow what—on second thought, I don't want to know. Look, I already called a mechanic to look at my baby. So, thanks but no thanks."

It was Wes's turn to raise a puzzled brow. "Why don't you just buy a new one? We all know that you're insanely rich enough that you could buy the whole cast, plot, heck, _everything_ of Harry Potter and you could have your way with them. "

"Like what? Turn it into a musical because I'm a big fan of musicals?" Blaine sarcastically replied.

Having not taken a hint, Wes brightened up. "Yeah! Then you could call it, '_A Very Potter Musical'_ or something. Man, _that _would be a hit."

"Thanks Wes, I'll keep that in mind." Blaine rolled his eyes as he finished his Medium Drip.

* * *

><p>He knew what people did when they rode buses—it was all in the movies, really. You could probably learn everything from watching movies—from stealing a bank, wooing a girl, rebelling against your parents, fending off Death Eaters and dementors, and destroying an evil ring by bringing it to Mordor.<p>

Well…Probably not the last two, but hey, it could happen. Never say never.

After dropping the exact amount of coins, he found himself a free seat on the left side of the fourth row of the entire bus. He smiled to himself, feeling a bit excited and yet at the same time, a bit foolish for being so worked up over a trivial thing.

Contentedly, he glanced outside the window. This was New York, the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps. And it was true. He saw all the hustle and bustle going on around him, and honestly, he felt as if those people weren't sleeping anymore and instead, lived on caffeine alone.

And by the lifestyle that he was living…He felt as if he was one of them already.

Not long enough, people began to pour in. Soon, the whole bus was crowded, with some people standing up instead and holding on the railings. Politely, he gave his window-spot to a kind-looking old lady, who fell asleep as soon as her back rested against the seat.

On the other hand, Blaine Anderson felt panic slowly creep inside him when he noticed that _he did not know how to get home_. It was wholly different when _you_ were the one driving the car. Yes, despite his three-month stay, he already knew all the shortcuts and the shops and the cafés that he would pass through every morning.

But taking the bus was _different_.

It passed through the main roads _only_, where it was traffic _all the time_. The type of roads Blaine usually _avoided_. And so, he doesn't really know which road exits where and enters where.

In short, he was _lost_. Well…not _yet_.

He sighed, and then he wiped his face with his hand tiredly. Nothing would go wrong without a few adventures, right? He could always give either Wes or David a ring if he needed help…

…Although he was pretty sure that those two wouldn't let the issue live down.

So, he was pretty sure, he'd rather to handle this alone. Looking at it from a brighter side, at least he would get to know more about this city…Right?

"Excuse me", a soft-spoken yet high-pitched voice snapped him out from his pessimistic thoughts. He turned and resisted the urge to drop his jaw at what he saw. There, directly on his right side (hey, it was jam-packed), stood the most _beautiful_ guy he had ever seen in his whole life (and he _had_ seen a _lot_ of them…And probably dated the majority of them.)

Porcelain doll.

That was the first image that he could relate to. Well, earthly image. _Angel_ and _elfin_ and _fairy_ were too…far-fetched, right? How else would he describe this breath-taking…And oh god, his _eyes_, his eyes—were they real? Or were they just contact lenses?

He opened his mouth, but he found no words.

"You dropped your scarf", he pointed at the forgotten object lying at his feet. "And it's a really pretty scarf too. Is it Dior or Armani? The fabrics—ow!" There was a smirking girl beside him; she was doll-esque too. She was blonde, and she had a small albeit really pretty face.

Chuckling, Blaine picked up his Armani scarf. Wait, how did the boy know that it was Armani? Could it be that he was…Not to be stereotypical, but from the sound of his voice, his perfectly coiffed hair, and his scent (which was a mixture between vanilla and some soft flowery fragrance, by the way) and his clothing—he checked out his style—the boy was wearing a black and white striped polo shirt underneath his stylish leather jacket, and oh, hello there _skinny tight jeans_.

This boy was perfect.

And he screamed _gay_.

Meaning, they were on the same team.

Meaning, he had _hope_.

'_Mental note to self: squeal and flail like a mad creepy stalker fan boy that I am later'_, he thought to himself, his heart beating wildly inside his chest.

"Thanks", the prep school rich kid muttered shyly. A few minutes passed by later, and damn, he couldn't let an opportunity like this slip past by him. After all, what Blaine Anderson wanted, Blaine Anderson got it—in a gentleman manner, of course. "Uuuh…"

"Kurt, he's talking to you", his fellow-doll friend commented. She was giggling too. Did he really look _that_ stupid?

Expectantly, the angel turned to him.

"Is this…" _'Heaven?'_ Blaine bit his lip from spilling the last word out. He didn't want to scare off the kid or even attract attention to himself. Heat flooded to his cheeks as he saw the blond giggle some more, before the guy glared at her with his bitchy look.

Okay, try again. "I mean", he coughed. "I think I'm lost—"'in_ your eyes'_. Really, Blaine? Really? He scolded himself. "I mean! I'm lost because uuh…" Well, he couldn't say that it was his first time on the bus or anything, right? "…I'm not familiar with these parts…"

_Wonderful_, Blaine mused bitterly, _how wonderfully lame Blaine. Wes and David would get a kick out of how pathetic you are being._

"Where do you live then?"

He gave him the place he was staying, not missing the slightly stunned expressions of the two. And certainly, he did not miss the obvious '_Figures' look_ the blonde girl wore. Even the angel in front of him raised his perfectly sculpted brow in an intimidating way.

"Oh you're not too far from it then. It's just two stops from this one", he smiled as he tugged on the girl behind him. "Come on Quinn."

"Really, Kurt, really?" Quinn snickered as they waited for the bus to stop directly at its…stop.

_Kurt _sighed exasperatedly. "What? I was being nice!"

"That's what you call it nowadays?" She shook her head. Both unaware that in fact, Blaine was _still_ seated behind them, and he could hear everything clearly. "The guy was cute though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" _'Kurt'_ grumbled, although the reddening from the tip of his ear all the way down his neck gave him away.

"Nothing", Quinn smirked as they exited the bus.

And when the bus picked up some more passengers, and dropped of some more, he had already arrived to his stop. Somehow, he had managed to make it home.

It was on top of a splendid condo. And he loved the view, especially when the sun rises in the morning, he could see it from his bedroom.

Dropping his keys by the table, he went to the kitchen to find some food as he listened to the voice mails. Although, all of his attention and his thoughts were still on that stylish, beautiful, and totally adorable—

"Blaine? David and I dropped by your place a while ago, we played _Halo_", it was Wes. "Seeing that you aren't there yet, we thought you got your wish riding a public transport. Anyways, your mechanic called."

"Hi Blaine!" David chirped in from the background.

"Yeah, yeah. David's here right now. We're watching _Shutter Island_. Right, where was I? Your mechanic called, he said that you'll be able to pick your car up next week. And—"

A crash was heard in the background, followed by a yelp and a curse.

"—David! Look, I need to go. Call me as soon as you're done listening to this, okay? Okay. Bye." The voice mail was followed by a beep, indicating that the message was finished.

A _week_.

Blaine gets to ride the bus for a _week_.

Call it love at first sight, or infatuation, or what—he was _smitten_.

And he could only hope that he would see _Kurt_ once again.

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><p><strong>AN: The fluffiness is killing me. *headdesk* And really, Blaine? Pick-up lines? I knew you were a dork but...*somebodyshootme***

**Reviews! :P**


	2. Good things come to those who wait

**Title: **Seasons of Love

**Summary: **"Honestly", Blaine grinned, "you had me at…'mmmgoawayFinn'. The way you were snuggling into me—it was so adorable. YOU were so adorable. You still are."

**A/N: **I'm stuck at home. But yaaaaay, I'm going to watch **Romeo and Juliet** tomorrow. GAAAH. Oh, and my Moulin Rouge has been on repeat for the past hour or so. XD And now…I'm playing RENT, gaaah. I feel like watching it all over again. Mucho masturbation FTW. XD

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><p><strong>WINTER<strong>

Blaine Anderson sighed. He really hated winter. Well, technically, he liked the season. It reminded him of _Christmas_, and everybody was jolly and festive and was stuffed with Christmas plans and intentions of last minute Christmas shopping. It was the best excuse to make snow angels and snowmen (the plural of snow_man_)…Not that Wes and David needed to know that.

And you know what the best part was for him?

It was Christmas Disney movies.

'Nuff said.

Although, every year, he always had one damn problem—his hair, it was usually controllable with (lots) gel. But whenever the cold, or the dry, or the humid season kicks in, it unleashes its Medusa-type fury.

Apparently, it was _not_ the Christmas-y type, seeing that it refuses and rebels with whatever chemical-induced hair products his hands could grab on, ignoring the fact that they may be the reasons as to why he would already be bald when he's around his 30s.

With his black bonnet and his Gryffindor scarf (hey, he bought it online impulsively, okay?) and with his glasses on, he sighed for the umpteenth time as he rubbed his gloveless hands together to create some friction. Around him, people were doing the same. And as they waited for the bus, Blaine felt his phone vibrate against his coat pocket.

_**Where r u? You left practice suddenly. Everything ok? –Wes**_

And then another one came after.

_**OHMYGOD. YOU'RE KIDNAPPED BY THE DEMENTORS AREN'T YOU? – Wes**_

_**Dude, Wes is freakin' out. LOL. – David**_

_**Dementors AND the DEATH EATERS! HOLD ON CURLY POTTER! WE'RE GONNA GET THE FLYING CAR.-Wes**_

_**Blainey-boo, Wester's flailing like a maniac. I think I'm gonna record it. ROFL. Txt u l8ter.-David**_

Said boy resisted the urge to bang his head repeatedly at the nearest telephone post. He didn't know how he had come across such…oh god, he had _no_ words for such types of people. The bus wasn't there yet, and the sky was in an already depressing state of gray.

_**Ex-Warbler Blaine! Where the hell are you? My gavel will find you, you know – Wes**_

Blaine frowned. When Wes typed in correct and complete grammar that meant he was serious. And when he mentions his _'gavel'_ that was in his possession ever since he became a council member of the Warblers, their old glee club, it meant that heads were going to roll.

Or he was going to be gavel-ed to death. Which was _totally_ uncool.

Before he could even imagine the CSI type of scene, what with the people identifying the injuries on his body for his autopsy file, only to find gavel-induced shaped marks, and therefore coming to the conclusion that he was beaten to death by a…a _gavel_.

How pathetic was that?

The bus wasn't _still_ there, and some of the New Yorkers were going edgy because of the coldness and the weather combined. Blaine went in to compose a decent explanation to his friend when he received another message notification.

_**Told Wesley that ur on ur journey 2 Mordor. U owe me BIG. – David**_

"For the love of…" the curly haired boy grunted. Relief and annoyance and exasperation and impatience flooded him. He already pressed reply when _again_ he felt his phone vibrate. Seriously, did these guys ever do other things rather than irritate him so much to the point that he would consider suicide as an option?

_**Make haste, hobbit! Blaine of the Shire! :D – Wes**_

Wow, he never expected Wes to be the…emoticon type of person.

_**I'm going to murder you as soon as I see you Wesley. Bus is here. I'll explain later. –B**_

The blaring lights of the bus somehow pulled Blaine out of the misery that he was experiencing that day. It meant that he could go home. And going home meant a warm bath, some warm food, and maybe a Harry Potter movie marathon with Wes and David. And him wrapped in a _warm_, _comfy_ quilt by the _cozy_ fireplace.

_**I dun get u, B. Ur car's fixed. Y bother taking da bus? – Wes**_

Oh, wow.

Wes was right. His car was fixed and brandy and dandy as new over two months ago. So why the hell was he standing by the pavement full of snow, in line with the other boarders, letting an old lady board first, for the bus to get home?

The answer was simple really.

It was that…that _boy_ he coincidentally met in the bus two months ago. He was…_perfect_. Sure, all he knew was his name, and the fact that he got it through eavesdropping, but somehow…He just felt that that angelic porcelain doll was for him.

And ever since then, Blaine Anderson had been taking the bus to and fro just in case he would meet him again.

It was irrational, it was unreasonable, it was impulsive, and it was _crazy_.

It was _love_—for him. Although, he sure wished that whatever he was feeling for him, it wasn't mere infatuation. But there was something about _Kurt_ that Blaine couldn't really put his finger on. There was this amazing aura on him…And yet, there was something—

Holy Peacock.

Was that—?

The bus wasn't leaving yet, and there was a lone person who came up just as it was leaving. The guy was a bit flustered at his slight social error and then his glasz eyes searched the whole bus for a free seat in which, hey there, coincidentally, was _next to him_.

"Is this seat taken?" the same addicting, soft yet melodical voice asked him.

"Uuh, it's…no…It's yeah, I mean", Blaine stammered; as he mentally beat himself up for being such a loser, "You—you can sit. It's not my seat after all—I mean, oh god." He buried his face in his hands as he scooted closer to the window to make some space for him.

Lightly chuckling at his adorable verbal incompetency, _Kurt_ sat down next to him. He placed his leather messenger bag unto his lap as he gracefully got his IPhone from his pocket. Blaine tried to breathe, resist the urge to flail and fan boy, and to get his heart beating again as he diverted his attention to the stray thread of his scarf.

Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine took this as an opportunity for him to study and literally _memorize_ every inch that was Kurt. Call him a stalker or whatever, and he didn't know why as well, but he was just falling and falling and _falling_ for him madly.

It was winter, and Kurt looked as if he stepped outside of H & M or Dior's runway. He was wearing a gray scarf, a blue double-buttoned coat, some black _skinnytightjeans_ and knee-high black lace-up Doc Martin boots. His hair was perfectly coiffed as usual, although it appeared to be a bit flat due to the weather (and he felt kind of good to know that his hair wasn't the _only_ stubborn one), his cheeks were flushed, his nose was reddish (too _adorable_), he could see his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks every time he blinked, not to mention the beautiful nose structure that he had—

Blaine Anderson's heart suddenly ached.

He didn't know why. But after a moment of discreetly observing the object of his desire (he wanted a photo so he could show Santa what he _exactly_ wanted for Christmas), he felt _lonely_ and _pathetic_ and _numb_. Sure, he fell asleep with this guy's face appearing in his dreams. His voice stuck in his head. His scent painted on his own skin. Why was he falling in love with someone his eyes landed on only _once_?

_Look but not touch_. That was the only condition he was ever going to have with Kurt. He knew absolutely _nothing_ about the boy next to him. And where does that make him stand in this non-existent relationship?

As _strangers_—or even something remotely close, _bus mates_.

But that was all. There was no red thread binding them into a single fate. No signs of them being soul mates. No cliché situations of them being potential lovers. _Nothing._

So what was he doing still pining after him?

Really, he was so _pathetic_.

* * *

><p><em>Damn it<em>, he thought sullenly, _one look, Anderson. Just ONE more look and then you'll forget about him. You can go back to your baby and he can continue riding the bus and you'll date some men, pretend to be straight for your father, have some babies while he goes on and dates some lucky guy and they'll have gay babies—_

And before he could continue with his internal soliloquy, he decided that this would be probably the best moment to properly stare at the young boy for the _last_ time. Blaine figured that the boy would probably be busy texting nonstop with his phone (as if he hasn't done that for the past half-hour) or that he had earphones plugged in or he was reading a book or something.

But what Blaine didn't expect that when he turned in to look for the last time…

It was also the first time that he would actually _realize_ that he liked the boy.

So when he turned his head to lay his eyes upon him, he was startled as soon as he saw Kurt's head hung low, his chin rested against his chest, his eyes closed, and eyelashes shadowed his rosy cheeks. His pink lips were parted a little, light breathings filling his ears, and his arms crossed against his chest.

Kurt was _asleep_. Right next to him.

Being the dapper gentleman that he was, he knew that he should probably wake him up because he might miss his stop (which was still _three_ stops away—not that he memorized), but to be met with such a sight, he didn't have the heart to do it.

Instead, he propped his chin against his palm, and with a grin, longingly observed the sleeping angel next to him in peace. _Such soft skin_, he mused, as his eyes hungrily trailed the patches of exposed pale skin. He frowned though, when he noticed the dark bags underneath his closed eyes.

_Is he not sleeping well?_ Blaine racked his brain for reasons. And the conclusion he came up with? He thought that it would be best if they exchanged numbers so he could '_help'_ him sleep. The ex-Warbler smirked at himself with such a devious plan.

The bus suddenly speeded up. That meant that the usual Friday traffic momentarily smoothed out. And that also meant that thanks to the swift burst of motion and the laws of physics, Kurt's head unconsciously managed to lay itself on Blaine's shoulder.

To which, Blaine stiffened in shock.

When he half-heartedly recovered later, he began to cheer and party like mad internally. _To all the gods and the deities and to J.K. Rowling and Katy Perry—thank you. I'msohappyIcoulddie. _

He couldn't stop grinning like an idiot as he proudly glanced at the obviously-cozy person sleeping _against_ him. See? Big difference. From _next_ to him, it was now _against_ him. Damn, he sure made progress fast.

After a long moment of observing and memorizing every inch of him and finding new discoveries about his obsession (like the scar on his neck), out of nowhere came in the urge to wrap his arm around him and _pull him closer_. He desperately struggled (in vain) to control the urge. And all the other urges that came to follow. Like the urge to hold him, the urge to caress his cheeks, the urge to kiss him…

With a firm set of mind, Blaine diverted his attention to staring at the sceneries outside the window. Everything looked as if it was covered by a huge white blanket. As he let his mind muse on this for a minute, Blaine felt a hot breath fan on his neck. And then he felt Kurt move in closer with some slight incoherent babblings.

He was…_snuggling _against him.

_Not good, not good_, he panicked inside. _Well, it _is _good in so many ways. But the consequences do _not_ look as good_, he added as an afterthought.

The bus stopped and then loaded passengers off. New passengers boarded the vehicle. That was when Blaine noticed that there was only one more stop left before it arrived at Kurt's stop. And he knew that Kurt wouldn't like missing his stop in this miserable weather. With a sigh, he decided to do something about it.

"Hey, mister",' _Mister adorable_', Blaine lightly poked his shoulder. Nothing happened. He repeated this for a few more times. It only resulted with Kurt stirring a little, grumbling, and then snuggling further, to the point that his hand was clutching on Blaine's coat.

"Mister with the pretty blue eyes", he cooed sweetly. And then he shook him gently at first, but he added just the _slightest_ force to wake him up. "Mister with the sunny sweet smile, please wake up."

It somehow worked. Kurt frowned, although he was still asleep.

Blaine reached to try to wake him up again when Kurt slapped his hand away.

"MmmgoawayFinn", he slurred adorably.

The shorter had to bite the side of his cheek to prevent himself from smiling too much. This was turning out to be more enjoyable than he thought. "Mister Skin tight jeans, will you be my teenage dream tonight?" he began to sing lowly as he indulged himself in another useless attempt.

Kurt _adorably_ shook his head, as if he was a child refusing to wake up. "Fahvmowrmwinutes…Go away."

Blaine chuckled. "You're going to miss your stop, sweetie."

"MmmstupidFinn…" Kurt's groggy blue-green-gray eyes half-opened to stare bleakly at him, "our stop is five more minutes away, lemmesleep."

At this point, Blaine was irrationally jealous as to who this Finn was. But he pushed it aside with a strained laugh. "I don't know who this…Finn is. But my name's actually Blaine. And we're near to your next stop and you're kind of sleeping _on_ me so—"

With those words, Kurt jerked upright, his eyes were electrifying blue.

"_Oh my god_", he squealed, high-pitched yet still thick with sleep. "I did _what_? I'm so sorry!" Heat flooded his cheeks, making him irresistible and too-cute-for-his-own-good. Blaine used all of his willpower to not just pinch his cheeks or scold him for being too damn adorable.

"No, it's okay—"

"It's _not_ okay!" Kurt shrieked, causing a few heads to turn at him in concern. "I mean—this, I—I'm _so_ sorry. Dear Gaga, did I drool or you or something? Was I snoring? My head was probably causing your shoulders to be imbalanced. Did I forever scar you? Wait—are you offended?" His voice was reduced to a breathy whimper at the last bit.

Blaine's heart ached as he studied the other. Kurt was above all, worried that he made Blaine upset. He was probably thinking that Blaine was _straight_ and that Kurt, who was obviously a walking stereotype, has offended him or something. "Like I said", he placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder, "I did not mind."

"I'm gay too, you know", he added quietly.

That shut Kurt up.

Now, Kurt was frowning. He was not happy with what he did. Although, Blaine's revelation caused an up stir with Kurt's thoughts—as obvious with his suddenly sparkling eyes. "It was still…inappropriate. Rude, even. I'm really sorry…" he trailed off.

"Blaine. Blaine Anderson", he shook Kurt's hand, ignoring the tingling of his skin afterwards.

"I'm really sorry about it, Blaine Blaine Anderson", Kurt smiled sheepishly. "I'm Kurt Hummel."

"Pleasure to meet you, Kurt Hummel", Blaine's grin widened. "As I've said Kurt, you were obviously tired. And I'm human too, so I could understand what you were feeling. How could I make you feel alright about this already?"

"The real question is, how could _I_ make it up to _you_? Well…Since I was the one being an idiot here…" Kurt stuttered adorably, fiddling with his scarf.

Bingo.

"How does coffee sound then?"

But before Kurt could've replied, they were already at his stop. Frowning, Blaine felt as if he was cheated. After almost three months of stalking, they were already talking, and now their time was cut short?

Already sulking about the whole turn of events, Blaine missed the action of Kurt hastily scribbling something on a torn piece of paper, and then quickly yet politely passing it to the other.

"Here, my number", Kurt blushed as he stood up. "Call me and let me know. Bye!" He gave him a little wave before exiting the bus.

And when the bus began moving again, Blaine couldn't believe how lucky his day turned out. He clearly unraveled two revelations that day.

First: _Good things come to those who wait_. The almost-three-months were worth it.

Second: _He loved the winter season._

How could he not? Everything was white and gray.

Everything reminded him of his first _real_ and certainly not _made up by his fantasies_ conversation with pretty Kurt Hummel.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: HA. xD Couldn't resist. :P I tell this from my personal experience. HAHAHA. I ride the bus from school to home every day. And let me tell you, I am **_**Kurt**_** in such occasions. *blushes***

**It's hard to stay awake in the bus! It's harder to stay awake when you know someone else is sitting next to you. Admittedly, I have slept on a stranger's shoulder twice already. First being, a college male student (same year as me—different school), second, a nursing student. GAAAAH. EMBARRASSMENT.**

**Reviews are loved. :) **


	3. Let the games begin

**Title: **Through Persistence, Determination and…Stalking

**Summary: **What Blaine Anderson wants, Blaine Anderson gets. He's dapper, rich, and he has an _awesome_ voice. Everybody loves him. His latest conquest? The pretty blue-eyed stranger he met on the bus. AU.

**Disclaimer: **Forgot to do this. Never owned Glee, or any of its characters, because if I did…*evil laugh* let's say poor baby Kurt would be _limping_ a lot more often, and Warbler Blaine would be way _too_ smug.

**A/N: **So my sister and I watched "_Across the Universe"_ and _ohmygod_, I totally fell in love with the Beatles all over again! And Jude's accent? UNNF. *squee* Although, I might say, Prudence and Lucy did not do '_I Wanna Hold your Hand'_ and _'Blackbird'_ with justice the way Kurt Hummel/Chris Colfer did them. Plus the Blue guys and the weird white-women dancing on the water? –CREEPY.

Anyways, enjoy! And might I add that I'm very grateful for the reviews. :D Although I suck at replying them, I'll try better next time! :D

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><p><strong>WINTER—CHRISTMAS EVE (24<strong>**th**** OF DECEMBER, 2012)**

Cheery bright lights offered him little warmth as he rubbed his yet again, _gloveless_ hands together to create himself some friction. Blaine made sure that he was dressed warmly before he left his flat. He decided to wear his muddy gray leather jacket over his light gray turtleneck, and some jeans.

He had been packing quite a bit since the other day because he promised his parents that he would fly back to Westerville, since he was going to pick his parents up, and together with his older sister and her family, they would take a rather jolly Christmas up in Alaska—Blaine was _dying_ to ski and snowboard once again after a long time.

It was already around past ten, or so, and he knew that people should go back to their respective houses to do some last minute decorations, or host a party or something. But unfortunately, the streets and the roads were still packed with crowds and traffic.

With some difficulty, he _finally_ managed to squeeze in to the small, quaint, yet cozy café that somehow reminded him of the one back in Lima. It wasn't that popular, but the coffee and the service there was really great.

That night, however, was an exception since the whole place was buzzing with teenagers, adults, and late night office workers who just wanted to go home and spend the approaching holiday with their families.

Sighing, Blaine got into line. He went in behind a young man and at the same time, was in front of a haughty office lady. Glancing far up front, he figured that the wait was probably worth it.

After ten minutes or so, there was the only about two people, not including the guy in front of him, separating him and the cash register. Blaine glanced at his clock, it was already 10: 29 PM .Mentally, he made a check list of the things he needed to do once he got his pick-me-up.

"Good evening sir", a breathy yet still lovely voice asked, "what would it be?"

_Holy…Pigfarts._

Was he in a Kurt-induced dream again? He pinched himself. _Ow_, the boy winced as he absentmindedly rubbed the skin he pinched himself in. _This was real all right_, he thought, still a bit amazed.

Blaine stuck his neck out of the line to confirm his suspicion. And he swore that his jaw almost drop because _hello_, out of _all_ the millions of thousands of people who chose to _work_ in that particular café that he decided to buy coffee from…Well, guess who actually turned up?

_Kurt_ freaking _Hummel_.

The pretty blue-eyed boy who he instantly fell in love with the first time he got on the bus. The angel who's face kept on appearing in his dreams, both subconsciously and consciously. The very same _man_ that drove him to his insanity every single waking moment of his life as he filled his thoughts with _his_ face, his voice, his scent…

_Damn_, did he fall _hard_? Hard, indeed.

* * *

><p>"<em>Guys, what do you do when you get a girl's number?" Blaine asked reluctantly, confusion and slight embarrassment painted on his face. Wes and David came over for Wednesday night dinners, and it was Blaine's turn to cook.<em>

_It was as if he stepped on a landmine._

_Wes choked on the glass of water he was drinking. David literally sputtered out the noodles he was enjoying a moment ago. With wry amusement, the ex-Warbler shook his head as he patiently waited for the two to recover from their outburst._

"_Did—did we hear just right Wesley? Something about Blaine getting a _girl's_ number?"_

_The Asian let out a gasp of shock. "Blaine? Getting a girl's number? What's next David? What's next? The Zombie apocalypse? An alien invasion? The World's end? And when I mean end, the 2012 version and _not_ the day after tomorrow one."_

"_I hate you guys", Blaine mumbled._

* * *

><p>He would admit that it wasn't one of his finest moments. Of course, if you were stressing yourself over the course of the question <em>to call<em> or _not to call_, and ended up hyperventilating and _not_ calling at all was truly and seriously…_pathetic_.

Blaine shook his head to clear out the unwanted thoughts.

"Next", he heard the boy call out, "good evening sir, what can I get you?"

'_Oh my god'_, he internally panicked, '_I'm next! I'm next! What the hell do I do? What should I say?_ 'And then he slapped his forehead, earning a rather weird look from the lady behind him. _'Right. I'm supposed to order my coffee.'_

'_Well…It's not like I'm going to ask him out or anything right? I mean…he's not even going to _remember_ me.'_ Blaine thought bitterly. _'He might. Although as that creepy guy with a fur ball for a hair. Did he even figure out that I was the one who called him that night?_'

And then, as the guy in front of him was saying his order, a certain recent memory slipped into his mind.

"Hello?"

* * *

><p><em>Blaine cursed internally. Seriously, he didn't know what happened. One second, he was pacing around his room all the while arguing with himself and weighing the pros and cons of the matter at hand. Then the next second, he was clutching at the phone and speed dialing the number elegantly written on the piece of paper given to him.<em>

"Hello? Who is this? This is not funny."_ Kurt's voice rang clearly irritated on the other line. Blaine snapped awake from his reverie. Right. The boy he was madly in love with. On the other line. Waiting for him to speak._

_Then, he frowned._

_What could he tell him? Scratch that, what would he tell him? Should he introduce himself, maybe remind him of who he was? Break the ice a little, and then ask him out for a coffee? What?_

"Asshole",_ he heard Kurt mutter and then the line went dead._

_Blaine could only groan in regret, and repeatedly hit his head on the smooth, marble counter of his kitchen._

* * *

><p>"Thank you and Merry Christmas", the high-pitched voice greeted in a rather monotonous way. Blaine would've stopped and noted the reason behind the cold un-cheery tone despite that it was Christmas Eve. But he couldn't—he <em>wouldn't<em>. He was _next in line_, goddamit.

He was finally going to speak to him!

But before he could even smile at him, Kurt got called in by his manager, and then they had a brief talk, the one where he saw Kurt blush a few times and nodding bashfully. And then when his manager left, Blaine grinned, hoping that he would come to him now. But _no_.

Instead, he watched the angel gracefully walk to where his oh hello, it was his blonde doll-esque friend—_Quinn_, was it? And then he began to converse with her in hushed, yet urgent tones. Straining a bit, he was sure he could hear Kurt panic and ramble and rant about something—

And then those blue-green-gray eyes lay upon his hazel ones for one solid second.

Blaine swore that his heart stopped beating—that he forgot to breathe.

The blonde—Q_uinn_, laughed at Kurt's expression, only to be shut up by a rather icy glare. And then she tiptoed and planted a swift kiss on his cheek before agreeing with whatever he said.

"Good evening", warm brown eyes met his with amusement, "What would you like to have?"

Blaine mustered all of his will to refrain himself from frowning.

"A Medium Drip please", he politely ordered before he could sneak another glance at Kurt. There he was, standing with his perfectly coiffed hair (as usual), brows furrowed, cheeks flushed, and a pout on his pink lips—god, how could a person get any _more_ adorable, really? He sighed.

Oh well, at least he got to see him before Christmas.

"That'll be five dollars and ninety cents", Quinn bit her lip, as if she was contemplating on a thought. Blaine handed out a twenty, and as the rather pretty blonde girl opened the cash register to get his change, she shook her head. "Kurt Hummel", she whispered.

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Kurt Hummel", she repeated with a grin as she handed him his change. She swiftly grabbed his order and gave it to him with a knowing look. "That's _his_ name."

"Quinn!" Kurt flushed and squealed angrily.

"Merry Christmas", Quinn greeted him before she called the next customer in line.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—CHRISTMAS (25<strong>**th**** OF DECEMBER, 2012)**

Kurt Hummel.

Kurt Hummel.

Kurt _freakin'_ Hummel.

Blaine couldn't help but let a dopey grin paste on his lips as he rolled around his bed, the one with Star Wars sheets, and let out a triumphant _'Yes!'_ matched with a fist pump in the air. He already knew his name, but the knowledge that _Kurt Hummel _was _Kurt Hummel_ and he noticed his name…

"Uncle Blaine, do you want—", his ten year old niece entered his room unannounced, "Mom! Uncle Blaine's doing those weird faces again!"

He couldn't care that his niece found him eccentric. Although he was slightly disturbed that maybe, just _maybe_, his growing personality was bordering on _stalking_ or _obsession_. And for a moment, he wondered if he ever was.

Maybe, _just_ maybe, you didn't need half of your lifetime trying to _find_ your other half. And then spend the remaining years trying to _know_ if indeed, that person is the one you're so willingly to spend the rest of your life with.

Maybe, _just_ maybe, all it took was one second. That one second when your eyes met his, and you don't know how love actually works but you're _sure_ and you _know_ and you _want_ and you could practically imagine your future with him.

Well, that was apparently _his_ case.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER— 27<strong>**th**** OF JANUARY, 2013**

It was Sunday. It _was_ supposed to be a rest day, for everyone—except _Blaine_.

Winter break was over and done. He had the weekends all covered for soccer, since there was a college match or something. Then there was the case of this semester's finals, and his organizations' events, the projects and papers he was bombarded with.

Honestly, Blaine felt like shaving his own head.

But what could he do? He was _Blaine Anderson_. And sure enough, he kind of expected having a break from his full schedule routine lifestyle back in Dalton—what with the never ending school works and exams, the Warblers (as lead solo), soccer practice (as team captain), and even giving in to join one of those charity events that his mother forced him to join because their family was part of an elite club or something.

Sighing, the boy, having finished his early morning jog, entered his favorite quaint cozy café and ordered his usual. Happy with his purchase, he then proceeded to find a comfortable spot to rest in.

A few minutes later, he frowned. Sure, a lot of people passed by the café, and it sort of got him wondering what kind of life they have led so far, or the fact that if they were just plain…_happy_. Or lonely.

Just like he was.

He didn't know the answer. But he was sure about one thing: Kurt Hummel did not have morning shifts.

With a sigh, he picked up his coffee, dropped it in the trash can, and then he exited the café. Was he really _that_ desperate? He was just…_one_ guy.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—30<strong>**TH**** OF JANUARY, 2013**

It wasn't creepy, right?

It wasn't that totally offending or weird or whatever.

Most of all, it wasn't…stalker-ish in the very least, right?

He just wanted to know if that lovely countertenor really _did_ work in the mornings or the afternoons. As it turns out, he works at night.

And if you were wondering, _yes_, Blaine did come back to the café at different times. After his morning exercise, he went to the café. Then, he went back at around lunchtime. The place was full, but there was no sign of Kurt anywhere. He even got his Philosophy paper and History report and had it finished during the afternoon as he drank his Mocha Frappuccino.

Still no pretty boy.

With a sigh, he pushed his glasses upwards as he entered the café that evening. It may be unhealthy for him to actually drink coffee for the fourth time that day, but he actually needed the drink seeing that he still had his World Geography and his Constitutional Rights papers he left at home half-finished.

Instead of falling in line to order his pick-me-up quickly and go home, he slid into a rather secluded booth in the corner and let his head lie upon the table with a tired sigh. It was only his first year in college, and he was already more than willing to commit suicide, or at the very least, sign himself up for a room in an asylum.

He felt his phone vibrate. Without even raising his head, he blindly groped the thing from his pocket.

_**Don't forget. Big test in Literature tomorrow—Thad**_

Thad was his hero. He was just a council member in the Warblers back in his high school days, but right at that moment, he was Blaine Anderson's _hero_. Why? Because Blaine Anderson apparently forgot due to procrastination and tons of school work to do and due to the fact that he liked to commit to a lot of activities, organizations, and projects before realizing that he was just a _human being_ and not _superman_ to be able to fully partake in all of those. But since he already gave his word, he couldn't do anything about it.

With a sigh, he rummaged through his bag and let out a sigh of relief as he _managed_ to remember to bring with him his Literature book. He opened the page where they stopped discussing—_Sonnet V_—of Francesco Petrarch. Huh. It was all about his unrequited love with Laura, it seemed.

He pushed aside some papers and laid the book in the middle as he grabbed the paper he was writing moments before, Niccolo Machiavelli's _El Principe_, and set it on top of the book so he could read and write at the same time.

Damn, multitasking was hard.

* * *

><p>Blearily, Blaine took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes.<p>

He grasped for his phone to check the time.

_11: 03 PM_

"Shit", he cursed under his breath as he took notice of his surroundings. From the noisy buzz of the café, it died down as more and more people left the place. Only a couple, a girl reading a book, and a businessman rapidly chatting on his phone while fiddling with his laptop were the ones left.

"—swear that _if_ I find another horrendous deer sweater of hers, I would burn it right in front of her", a high-pitched voice threatened.

Blaine's heart almost stopped beating.

Warm hazel eyes _finally_ rested upon the person he so badly needed to see the past few weeks. Admittedly, he was scared that this was going to turn out like one of those movies wherein the main character gets to meet his love interest, what? 10 years later? And already with a golden band around their ring finger.

No, no.

Blaine wasn't going to have _any_ of that.

It was one of his principles in life. _'What Blaine Anderson wants Blaine Anderson gets.'_ And sure, to others, it might sound as if he was one of those rich, spoiled, cocky brats. Blaine wasn't afraid to admit that he was. It wasn't at all about achieving his little _conquests_ (as Wes put it). But rather, to him, it was about seizing the opportunity presented to you. He clearly just doesn't want to waste any time.

Observing him from afar, Blaine couldn't help but feel his heart flutter against his chest. There he was, as _elegant_, as _beautiful_, as _witty_, as _unique_ (feel free to stop him, he may go on and on about it forever)…as _perfect_ as ever. He watched him move around fluidly, with lithe, cat-like movements. Kurt's hair was impeccably coiffed as usual. His eyes—they were electrifyingly _blue_ today—twinkling under the café's lighting. His cheeks flushed. Admittedly, Blaine had seen him less than he could count by his fingers, but he was sure that he had never seen the guy so _animated_, so_ alive_.

It was amazing.

Grabbing his books hurriedly, he stuffed them all in his messenger bag. All the while, he watched Kurt and made sure that he was the one at the counter before he could give him any more excuses not to see him.

Quinn, the blonde girl, asked him about the coffee bags she was holding. And Kurt, who was busy taking inventories by the cash register, turned his back to answer her properly.

'_This is my chance!'_ he thought as he scrambled to get up, almost tripping himself over the leg of the table. But luckily, he caught himself and arranged himself. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he made sure that he had no drool or whatsoever. And with as much confidence as he could muster, he half-walked half-ran his way towards the counter.

"—make sure that the coffee beans are delivered by tomorrow morning", Kurt reminded Quinn, as he absentmindedly tapped the pencil against the notebook. When he turned back, he was more than _shocked_ to see the same warm hazel eyes intently gaze at him.

Blaine offered him a smile. He probably looked all haggard and tired, especially since he apparently forgot to apply his hair product that particular morning. But he _definitely_ enjoyed the expression Kurt showed when he saw him. "Hi", he grinned, a bit breathless.

The angel's jaw dropped, before he got the moment to pull himself together. Fixing Blaine a suspicious glare, Kurt set aside the pen and the notebook. "What would it be?" He said in a harsh, cold tone.

"You", Blaine grinned at him, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

Kurt's mouth twitched in annoyance. "I'm sorry, but we don't have that in our menu," he deadpanned.

"What I meant to say was", the curly haired man tried again, "wow. _You_—you're so beautiful you made me forget my pick-up line." _Ohmygod I'm so glad Wes and David aren't here_. He knew that this was a long-shot, but somehow, he couldn't resist outing his own dorky, sappy side. The one he reserved for the ladies.

He let out a sigh of relief when he heard a delighted twinkling laugh from somewhere behind Kurt. It was only then that Blaine realized that it was _Quinn_ laughing. "Oh my god, that was _adorable_."

On the contrary, Kurt wasn't in the least _amused_ by the whole situation. He sighed. And put on his best _'bitch-face'_. "What would it be?" He repeated, this time with an obvious bite in his tone.

"A Medium Drip, please", Blaine sighed.

"Kurt, come on, give the guy a chance. He's adorable", Quinn teased as she winked at Blaine. Blaine grinned at her in return. And his grin only widened when he saw that Kurt's cheeks were dusted with a reddish hue. Slowly, the blush covered his blush, then his face, then all the way down his neck.

A flustered Kurt was really cute.

As if Quinn was listening, she handed over Blaine's order to Kurt. "That'll be five dollars and ninety cents", Kurt grumbled, brows furrowed, and eyes averted to the money as Blaine handed a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you", Kurt bit his lip, unsure of what to say next. Quinn nudged him gently. He sighed in exasperation. "Come again", he added with forced politeness.

This time, Blaine couldn't help but flirt with him, publicly. He was smug after seeing him after a month, and two days, not that he's counting. And he could feel his confidence building when he _made_ Kurt blush like that.

"Oh don't worry, sweetie. I will", he cheekily said, casually throwing Kurt a wink.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ha! Long update is long! :D Review! I changed the title and the summary. Because apparently, the whole plot just rewrote itself! So yes. It's different now. HA. Next Chapter is already done! Just review and I'll post it ASAP!**


	4. Countdown to Vday Part 1

**A/N: On with the story! And in case you're wondering if the summary of the story doesn't fit with the plot at all, it will be explained! Thanks for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! Now on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own GLEE, Blaine Anderson, or Kurt Hummel. Dammit. If I did, then there would be _sexy_ times.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—5<strong>**th ****OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (1 Week, 2 days before Valentine's)**

If Blaine Anderson was anything, he would most likely be goddamned _'persistent'_.

(Or what his family and friends describe him as _'stubborn'_ or _'obstinate'_ or even _'hardheaded'_, but _persistent_ sounded so much better.)

But sticking to his principle, he figured that he'd pretty much do anything to get it. Now that _Step One:_ _Find Kurt Hummel again_ had been completed with a little help from Lady Luck (Come on, Starbucks, really? Out of all the cafés in New York?), he was far more _eager_ to commence the next step.

_Step Number Two: Invite him out for a drink. _

Assuming that his pretty glasz (he had to Google that accurate term for the breath taking blue-green-gray eye color) eyed snow nymph was _drinking_ alcohol and such. But nevertheless, he was _persistently _determined to follow through his actual plan.

And that's how he found himself, at eight o' clock sharp (because it was a _Tuesday_), seated in the left corner, nearest to the counter, Medium Drip in hand, all the while _watching_ Kurt Hummel do his job. He made sure that the boy actually _felt_ the intensity of his stare.

From the way Kurt would glare at him every free moment, no matter how _hard_ he tried to ignore him, Blaine knew that his presence was far more than acknowledge.

But hey, at least he wasn't _hated_, right?

This little routine had begun the moment Blaine had somehow gotten some estimation of what Kurt's shifts were, after endless weeks of _waiting_ and _observation_ and _hoping_ (Wes and David definitely included the word _stalking_ around there somewhere). But Blaine knew this wasn't _stalking_. He was just…naturally curious. And being the curious person he was, he graciously and patiently waited from seven am (before his school starts), drop by around lunch time, then straight after his last period around four pm, and wait until eight pm—which was the beginning of Kurt's shift.

He learned that on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, Kurt's shift would begin at around _four_ and would end at around approximately _nine_ pm. And on Tuesdays and Thursdays, his shift would start around _eight_ pm until closing time, midnight. Saturdays were longer, from _ten_ in the morning up until _five _in the afternoon. His Sundays were free. Sometimes, Kurt would be by the counter, taking orders. Sometimes, he would act as the barista and do the orders. And sometimes, he would be the busboy, clearing off plates, silverwares, and mugs from the tables. Almost every time, Quinn was on his shift. The only exception would be his Saturday, to which a (straight) guy would replace her place as his shift partner.

And since he was no longer buried in school work (just an essay here or a paper there), he spent all of his free time at the Café. He was sure that he was recognized by the other regulars in there. He was probably one of them there.

Now, where was he?

Oh right, back to _'observing'_ his specimen, a rare species called _'Kurt Hummel'_.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—6<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (1 Week, 1 Day before Valentine's)**

_Wednesday_.

He glanced at his wristwatch. _4: 48 PM_.

He glanced at the counter. Perfect. Kurt was busy taking peoples orders. He wouldn't notice in the likeliest bit since it was the beginning of the peak hours of the day, what with the schools' dismissals, the office hour break, generally, the period wherein people are really _busy_.

"Good aftern—afternoon", Kurt caught himself in time, clearly _not expecting_ Blaine's _unwelcomed_ presence that day. "What would it be?"

Blaine, the ever charming gentleman, grinned at him. "A Medium Drip please, and some of those chocolate chip cookies."

The beautiful boy punched in the numbers in the cash register. "That'll be eleven fifty", he mumbled as he grabbed an empty paper cup from the side, the ones for the Hot Beverages, and uncapped his pen with his mouth. "Name?" Kurt said the word with suspicion, as if he didn't know what Blaine would say that day.

This was Blaine's favorite part of the day. "_Blue eyes_."

"Excuse me?"

"They're _blue_ today", he paused, "your eyes, I mean. Up until now, they're sort of a bluish-greenish-grayish mixture. But now, they're like, _really_ blue. Hence, _blue eyes_."

Grumbling something incoherently, Kurt avoided Blaine's eyes as he finished writing the words in his tidy elegant handwriting. Surely enough, Blaine could see the way Kurt's cheeks flooded with red, it was lovely.

"Keep the change", he happily beamed as he handed a crisp _fifty_ dollar bill, before going to claim his seat at the corner.

"_Blue eyes!_" Blaine couldn't help but snicker at the way Kurt flushed when Quinn shouted the order.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—7<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (1 Week before Valentine's)**

_Thursday._

_Eight o' clock sharp_.

He was the first in line. And since there weren't that many customers, Blaine couldn't help but flirt with the boy. They were going through their slowly building routine again.

"Order?"

"A Medium Drip, please." He watched in fascination as Kurt's brows furrowed. "I just had dinner a few minutes ago", Blaine explained, secretly loving the fact that Kurt noticed that Blaine often ordered his coffee with a snack accompanying it, and usually, it was a biscotti or a bagel or a cookie.

Slight tension filled the air the next few seconds. "Name?" he asked, through gritted teeth.

Blaine always wanted to try something. Already the span of the last few days, he had _heard_ only _two_ tones when Kurt was speaking to him: either _annoyance_ or _exasperation_. Nevertheless, Kurt's quiet yet musical voice appealed him to great extents. He wondered if he could sing—no scratch that, Blaine _knew_ Kurt was a great singer. _If Wes knew of Kurt's potential vocal prowess…The Warblers would've been unstoppable_.

But no, it wasn't about singing, or his old choir group, or even Wes that got him thinking.

"Blaine Anderson", he breathed in a low voice. Hazel clashed Gray (_they were gray today_, he noted). Kurt was the first to drop his gaze, his eyelashes brushing his cheeks in the most fascinating way.

He wanted Kurt to say his name _badly_.

Only to be disappointed later on when he heard that it was the blonde girl, and not Kurt, who shouted his name.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—8<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (6 Days before Valentine's)**

Blaine Anderson was _swimming_ in confidence that particular day.

His professor praised him for the term paper he wrote, his father agreed to move him to a new penthouse, he bought a _new _car (an _Ashton Martin_) which he _loved_, and now, he was going to see the person who bewitched him since day one.

"What would it be?"

"A Medium Drip and an Oreo cheesecake, please", Blaine grinned at Kurt's questioning expression. Wordlessly, he already placed a fifty dollar bill on the table. "Keep the change."

"Name?"

"Kurt Hummel's future boyfriend", Blaine said cheekily. Clearly, Kurt was dumbfounded. It was too bold (and idiotic) of a move of Blaine's after all. But hey, his day was going great, and there was nothing that could ruin his _exuberant_ aura that he was emitting.

Plus, the title was going to be permanent sooner or later, right? What's the sense in taking things slow and denying them?

But honestly, Blaine saw with his own two eyes that _that_ wasn't the name that Kurt wrote. Whatever it was, it was undoubtedly shorter than the four-worded _'name'_ that he gave. Maybe Kurt wrote his answer? Maybe it was a message from him? Blaine's insides churned with excitement.

After waiting for a moment, he was rustled from his reading of Harry Potter. There was a slight ruckus coming from the counter. Over his book, Blaine sneaked a peek. Quinn was resting her head against the cup that she was holding as she laughed really loud. Kurt was trying his best not to smile, but visibly failing. And the other employee, a tall Asian guy, asked Quinn what the fuss was about.

To answer his question, the pretty blonde continued laughing as she showed the cup to the Asian guy. He grinned at whatever it was placed there, but he still didn't understand why. Quinn nudged Kurt for further elaboration, since the blonde wasn't finished reacting to it yet. Her laughter subsided to uncontrollable giggles at that point.

Okay, _now_ Blaine's curiosity was piqued on the whole scene.

With Kurt fondly glancing at his doll-esque friend, he chuckled lightly and then proceeded to continue Quinn's wordless explanation. His lips were moving slowly, speaking only a sentence, and deciding that it was more than enough of a detailed response. The Asian guy's narrow eyes scanned the whole room, and stopped at none other than Blaine Anderson himself. Quinn and Kurt both nudged him hard at the same time, and hissed at him for being blatantly obvious.

Okay, _now_ Blaine was nervous.

It wasn't until the next minute that the cheeky guy discovered the reason for being the object of their amusement.

"_Ho_—ohmy—"Quinn laughed. "Mike, Mike, you do it! I can't—ohmy—it's Kurt's fault!"

Mike, the Asian guy, snickered. "Leave me out of this. It's Kurt's boyfriend anyway."

"Oh stop it Quinn, you're being unprofessional", Kurt swatted Mike's hand (who was aiming to mess his hair), "and he's not my boyfriend Mike. I think _this_ has already clarified that misunderstanding."

"Well then, you do it", Mike challenged him.

With his bitch-face on, Kurt looked the slightest nervous or anxious about something. He ushered Mike to switch places with him. Blaine watched Kurt take a deep breath and call out the name. "_Hobbit!_"

The order? A Medium Drip and an Oreo cheesecake. It was far from having the same order as other people. Not when you there were only a few people in the café at that time. For the first time in his life, Blaine Anderson was _embarrassed._

_Friday._

At exactly _5: 36 pm._

Blaine discovered something that day.

_Never_ get on the bad side of Kurt Hummel.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—9<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (5 Days Before Valentine's) **

How do you…exactly apologize for being so damned cocky?

When his automatic strategy of _'big-puppy-dog-eyes-have-pity-on-me'_ doesn't work, or his suave smooth lines, he resorts to Plan B, which happened _rarely_ since he had the girls, the ladies, and the chaps swept off their feet with his _'apologetic'_ smile.

Usually, Blaine did the job by sending a beautiful bouquet, filled with rare and fragrant flowers. Other times he bought them chocolate or sweets. If that didn't do the job, maybe a nice dinner out, a platinum card for shopping, tickets to a concert or a play—they weren't _bribes_ or anything. They were just…extravagant gestures of sincerity.

Instinctively, Blaine knew that neither of those lavish presents nor his dapper charm would work on him. He made a grandiose mistake, and honestly? He would go to hell and back if it meant Kurt would _look_ in his way again.

_Saturday._

_10: 15 am_

Taking a deep breath, Blaine slid to the front of the counter with as much casual air he could muster. Out of all days, Kurt appeared rather _splendid_ that day. He was absolutely _glowing_. And for a second, Blaine forgot to breathe.

"Oh", Kurt's lively expression dropped a bit. Well obviously, the guy was still pissed. "What would it be?"

Instead of answering him directly, Blaine fumbled around for a bit, undoubtedly new to the whole situation. "I—uh—Hi", he cleared his throat. "Uhm, I just wanted to you know…I—It's, I'm sorry. I want to apologize about—". Kurt raised a brow, prompting him to continue. "…You know, yesterday. I was being a complete…jerk. And in a way, I was _completely_ way over my head like…Roofs…_Way_ over like", he gestured above his (wildly _untamed_) head. "That was totally inappropriate and insensitive of me. Again, I'm here to…ask for your forgiveness and apologize."

And in a rather desperate attempt (hey, it's not like they were a couple…at least not _yet_), he laid down an origami of a rose. It was created out of paper. But it was pretty detailed, if the paper stem and paper leaves indicated anything.

Gingerly, he passed it to Kurt, whose bluish grayish eyes lit up with delighted surprise.

Silently, an awkward air hung between the two of them. Blaine was still on edge, wondering if Kurt was still mad at him or not (they _had_ progressed past the stalker-stalkee stage and into the hey-I-know-that-guy stage) But the sound of the bell ringing as the door opened brought them both back to the real world.

"What would it be?" Kurt asked softly.

Confused, but nevertheless the gentleman, he answered his question. "Uh…Medium Drip, please."

"We have those heart shaped biscuits", the pretty boy suggested, "You know, since Valentine's Day is near."

"Well, some of those too then, please", Blaine grinned. "Thanks." He slipped a fifty dollar bill. "Keep the change."

Humming under his breath, Kurt grabbed an empty cup and was poised to write, when he asked Blaine the same question, like clockwork. "Name?"

"Mop Top", Blaine grumbled, feeling as if he owed Kurt something. With a curious tilt of the head, Kurt stared at him, waiting for an explanation. On the other hand, Blaine _knew_ that this moment was going to come sooner or later. The name had already stuck with him ever since he could remember. But if there's anything that has _got_ to make Kurt smile…

"The hair", he ran a hand through his bouncy, black curls. At the rate of the way Kurt's blunt _gaze_ unto the least favorite part of his body, blood rushed to his cheeks. "'s an awful nickname." He grumbled.

And right at that moment, Kurt couldn't help but actually giggle.

Whatever they were, they were certainly progressing towards the _right_ direction.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—10<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (4 Days before Valentine's)**

Blaine paced around his newly furnished penthouse. He walked on top of the sofa, thereby resulting in a mess, pillow cushions on the floor. Not only that, he paced around the kitchen, opening and closing the cupboards, finding _something_ in vain when deep inside, he knew would actually be _nothing_.

"_Fuck!_" The man screamed in frustration, kicking the kitchen cabinet, therefore stubbing his toe. "_Holy Shit!"_ Sliding down the floor, he cradled his injured foot. From the living room, he heard through the blasted volumes of his 16 inch flat screen television about some commercial that was involving the day of _love_ and the best ways to spend it.

Suddenly, an idea hit him.

Scrabbling to his feet, almost tripping himself (yet _again_), he dove in his bedroom. Sticking his head underneath the messy, tangled, heap of sheets, he cried out a sound of victory when he located his wireless phone.

Fingers typing in a number in lightning speed, Blaine could feel himself _bounce_ in excitement.

"_Hello?_" A familiar voice picked up in a matter of few seconds later.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ha! Cliffhanger! Now, I know there are **_**4**_** days left. And they will be very much spent in an amusing way. Are you guys confused about Blaine's personality? He isn't bipolar at all, I promise. Well, stuff would be revealed sooner or later.**

**And if you see any lame pick-up lines later on, I do apologize.**

**Let me know what you think of it! **


	5. Countdown to Vday Part 2

**A/N: Hmm…I'm not sure how the plot will work from here on out. Anyways, thank you for the reviews, alerts, and favorites! :D Glad to know that you people enjoy cockyspoiled!Blaine as much as I do.**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own FOX, GLEE, or any of these characters. Just the plot.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—11<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (3 days before Valentine's)**

Blaine Anderson, with his amazing skills at observation, discovered something that week.

_Monday._

_8:28 pm._

Exactly thirty-two minutes away from Kurt ending his shift.

Blaine Anderson discovered that it was much more reasonable and rational for him to visit his pretty glasz-eyed angel during the evening. There were probably a million reasons he could give (but he's just exaggerated like _that_) but he would say that the main reason would be that meant Kurt would give less attention to his job and more attention to _him_.

From his little slip-up from the week before, Blaine was progressing their relationship to _'friends'_…Or at least he hoped so. At least, Kurt wasn't _glaring_ at him that much anymore…Now he knew that Blaine Anderson could be human and actually apologize for something.

Since it was a Monday, things were pretty hectic in the café. The line was long, and there was a new employee that Blaine had just seen that night—a _girl_ (and frankly Blaine wasn't interested). She was a short girl. Short, in the definition of _inches_ shorter than Blaine. She was Jewish, as it evidently showed in her facial features, and was rather fiery, talkative, and a bit…obnoxious.

But she was alright. Blaine did enjoy the sight of an _exasperated_ and a bitchy Kurt rolled into one. Quinn was seconds away from hurling the blender at her. And Mike had tried to discreetly avoid her.

_Never mind_, Blaine told himself. _Focus on Kurt, here he is. As adorable as ever_._ Time to make your move._

He slipped in the line, in between a college dude and an office lady. The office lady ordered a Grande Skinny Vanilla Latte, and well, that was a quick order. It was _finally_ his turn after three minutes and thirty eight seconds (but hey, he wasn't really keeping watch or anything.)

"—I just don't get it why people _don't_ order our house specialty? Is something wrong with it? They keep coming back each day to order the same thing over and over—oh Good evening sir! What would it be? And Kurt I swear—yes, that would be thirteen fifty—and _Mike where is that order?_"

Kurt merely rolled his eyes. "Oh my god Rachel, you're _destroying_ my eardrums."

Oh. So _that_ was Rachel.

"Hey", Blaine greeted with a smile. Kurt raised his eyebrows but nodded in response. Time to slip in to the usual routine. "What would it be?" the porcelain skinned guy was already punching the numbers in the register, already aware of what he would be ordering for the night.

"A Medium Drip and some of those Cupid cookies", he grinned. And as casually as one could drop in a conversation, he said "So, Kurt. How was heaven when you left it?"

Almost all of the people within range paused in whatever they were doing. Rachel shut up and gasped quietly. The guy at her counter looked at Blaine in surprise. Quinn was already grinning. Mike was laughing his ass off. And the college dude behind him tensed. And Kurt?

Kurt really was adorable when he was all flustered.

"_Eleven dollars and fifty cents please_", he ignored at the fact that Blaine hit on him, in _public_. He felt Rachel glance at him and Kurt back and forth, as if deciphering the mystery that was wrapped around him. Blaine wished there _was_ some mystery to unlock. But so far, there was only rejection and persistence.

"Kurt, is he your boyfriend?" Rachel asked, agape.

"Not now Rachel", Kurt answered through gritted teeth. He grabbed Blaine's order and fixed it up as quickly as he could. Feeling her gaze drill a hole in his head, Kurt sighed. "_No_. He is not my boyfriend."

"Well, not—"_yet_. Blaine smirked as Kurt glared at him icily. The dapper gentleman pretended to lock his lips and throw away the key. Satisfied, Kurt pushed his order towards him by the counter. After all, Mike had already prepared his daily Medium Drip. Blaine picked up his cup and scrutinized it. And then he stared at him with an unsatisfied expression.

"What?" Kurt asked, impatiently. There were _other_ customers behind him. In line. Waiting.

"You didn't put my name", Blaine pouted, very much sounding like a spoilt child. Kurt's brows furrowed. And then he realized his mistake, muttering and grumbling about _'immature rich bastards'_ and _'cocky arrogant customers'_. But Blaine was sure that there _was_ love expressed in between those expressions of hate and vile plots on murder.

Deciding that it was best to humor him, Kurt uncapped his pen with his mouth and stared at Blaine expectantly. "Name?"

"_Porcelain_", Blaine purred in delight as he slipped in a hundred dollar bill. Happy with the reaction that he got from Kurt, Blaine picked up his cup and walked to his usual spot. "Keep the change."

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—12<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY (2 Days before Valentine's)**

Blaine entered the shop, feeling somewhat kind of down.

It could be because of the cold weather, or the fact that _his Dad just called_, or that it was two days before the big day, or it could be the fact that the universe hated him, or the simple fact that the guy he had been chasing didn't bother to look over his shoulder. Not _once_.

But as if some warm fuzzy feeling cut through the nauseous fluttering in his stomach, he decided that whatever he was angsting over wasn't that important. What was important was that he got to see his beautiful coffee boy today. He allowed himself a small smile, before being first in line.

_Tuesday._

_11: 36 pm._

"Hello gorgeous", Blaine grinned. "You look beautiful today, just like every other day." Arrogance and cheekiness aside, he was actually telling the truth. Kurt _was_ beautiful. With his perfectly coiffed hair (that made him want to run his hands through it), his mesmerizing glasz eyes framed by long eyelashes, looking like a smudge in his rosy cheeks when he was looking down, his sculpted nose, his thin, pink, lips, his _voice_, his _hands_, his affection for Quinn and brotherly disposition towards Mike, his wit, his moments of kindness—inside out, Kurt was beautiful.

And as usual, it never failed to amuse Blaine as he watched the normally composed boy flitter and blush prettily under his intense gaze. "What would it be?" He grumbled, albeit there was a hint of smile on his lips. Contrary to his words, Kurt was already inputting the correct numbers in the cash register.

"Just a Medium Drip, thanks", Blaine gave him a real smile.

Kurt raised a brow. "No snacks or anything?" He couldn't help restraining himself. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Yes, yes", the other seemingly snapped out of his trance. "I just don't feel like eating that much."

"That'll be eleven dollars and fifty cents", he said softly, carefully scrutinizing Blaine. Absentmindedly, Blaine slipped in a fifty dollar bill. "Keep the change." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"And Kurt?" Kurt turned, surprised at him for calling his name like that.

"What?"

"Are you an interior decorator?" Blaine asked curiously. With a puzzled expression, Kurt grabbed Blaine's order from an equally puzzled Mike. He scribbled something on the cup (_'Hazel eyes'_, but Blaine didn't know _that_), and pursued his lips. "No, I'm actually a fashion designer. Student. Why?"

Biting his lip to keep himself from grinning too much, he picked up his drink and nodded at his guy. "Oh nothing. It's just that every time I see you, the room becomes beautiful."

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—13<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY (1 Day before Valentine's)**

He was up until around _three_ in the morning, perfecting little details, making sure there were no loopholes, and that there was a back-up plan. He arranged everything—from the timing to the proper outfit.

All in all, Blaine Anderson wanted to execute his plan flawlessly.

Hence, the night before, he already felt _way_ jittery and worse, more confident than usual. He strode in the café, inhaling its homey scent, feeling the warmth seep into his skin, his eyes automatically scanning for that one person he was slowly memorizing.

_Ah_, there he was. Smirking, Blaine slipped into line, strategically placing himself between a teenage girl in front, and a chattering businessman behind him.

_Wednesday._

_4: 49 pm._

He took a deep breath when he finally heard Kurt thanking the girl and asking the next person to come forward. Wordlessly, Blaine made the first move. He propped his elbow on the counter and rested his chin on his palm, honey-amber eyes mischievously clashing against icy blue ones. "Hi", he breathed.

"Good afternoon _sir_", Kurt replied irritably (he did expect Blaine to come around and bug him a bit _later_, not during peak hours, since he grew worse and worse each time), "what would you have?"

And Blaine just stayed there, charmingly grinning at him, being his dapper self. That alone would have been more than enough to make girls cream in their pants. For a few minutes, they stood there, staring at each other. Blaine noting the finer details of Kurt Hummel up close, while Kurt was impatiently tapping his foot and cursing Blaine all kinds of words that would make any fashion designer cringe and cover their ears. They were jostled awake when they both heard the businessman sigh and glare at Blaine.

"Blaine", Kurt hissed, "tell me your order _now_."

"Sorry", Blaine didn't seem apologetic at all, "there must be something wrong with my eyes, I can't take them off you."

"There _clearly_ must be something wrong with your head", Kurt spat venomously, "assuming that your Mother dropped you often when you were a baby."

"Kurt is that your boyfriend? He's been shamelessly hitting on you all week", Rachel piped in from next to him, "and he called you beautiful. You should be glad someone tells you that. I am dating your brother but he doesn't tell me I'm pretty or anything. And we have been dating since high school."

The old woman in her lane nodded sympathetically. "I hear you, sister. Preach."

Kurt flushed and gave Rachel a stern look. "For the last time Rachel Berry, he is _not_ my boyfriend." With a huff, he turned then to Blaine. "And would you please tell me what order would you place? If not, I' m going to go ahead and pick out the most expensive drink and treat that we have here."

His smirk widening, Blaine leaned over the counter, centimeters away from Kurt's lips. His expression turned to a thoughtful one. "_If_ I were to ask you out on a date, would your answer be the same answer to this question?"

With a considerably adorable gaping face, Kurt didn't know how to respond to that.

He was just asked out by a cute jerk who was stalking him during his work shifts like an overzealous puppy.

"I—I—_No_. Of course not. What would even give you the slightest—"

"So _you're_ saying that _'No, my answer wouldn't be the same'_ which would turn out that you would've actually said _'Yes'_ if I asked you out on a date. Am I correct?"

Complete confusion painted the angel's face. "I—", he tilted his head, "—wait, what?"

"I see. You're clearly confused by it. As far as I see it, you really have _no_ choice about the matter. But being the gentleman that I am, I will give you time to think about it. Don't worry, I'll wait." He smiled understandingly as he shifted comfortably. It dawned to Kurt that _Blaine was going to wait for his answer then and there_.

Other people began to grumble and whisper furiously about what was it taking so long. The businessman snorted and stared at them with obvious disdain. "If you two fags are going to fuck in public, get the fuck a room would you. Some people actually have busy schedules here. So flirt somewhere else or get the fuck to work like you're being paid for."

Blaine tensed. Kurt and Rachel predicted that there _was_ going to be trouble. Quinn peeked in from behind, wondering what the fuss was all about (hey, it was hard to make coffee orders and gossip at the same time) and Mike braced himself, ready for whatever it was going to happen the next second. The College girl, by Rachel's lane, warily glanced at the businessman's sneer and Blaine's hard expression.

"Sir, I—"Rachel began furiously.

"Blaine", Kurt pleaded, "please, I don't know what to say. Please, let's just talk about this later. I'll think about it. It's a maybe, okay? Now here's your Medium Drip, I threw in some cookies that you like in there. So Blaine, hey Blaine, just—just walk away."

With a clenched jaw, Blaine closed his eyes and nodded. Wordlessly, he took his order and politely handed Kurt a hundred dollar bill. "Keep the change", he said, tone sharp and stiff. Kurt didn't want to admit it, but he usually could take care of Blaine when he was an asshole. He didn't know what to do with Blaine like this—as if he was ready to snap any second. "Thank you."

Kurt watched him cautiously, mentally racking his brain for ideas if the worse scene came to happen. He gave out a sigh of relief when Blaine turned around and began to walk away, only stopping when he reached at the businessman's side.

He held his breath.

"You know, you should really watch that mouth of yours, especially to Kurt. You shouldn't be allowed to say shit about any of us, to queers in general, _especially_ Kurt." Blaine stared at him squarely in the eye, fists clenched, the paper bag's top clearly crumpled.

The businessman, a man around his 30s, snarled at him. "Why you little fag—"

"Watch it", Blaine raised a finger in warning, "this _fag_ might be able to fire you. Since you know, you work for my _father _and I'm to take over the family business and all that shit. So if I were you, you good for nothing asshole, its best wise to keep your mouth shut. Coffee break was done over _three_ hours ago."

With that, he left the dumfounded man, and gave Kurt another apologetic glance. "I'm sorry about that Kurt." He said in a broken whisper.

With that, Blaine Anderson left the café, all harsh, and bitter, and angry.

With that, Kurt Hummel let out the breath he was holding. And he wondered, underneath all that sappy pick-up lines, cheesy grins, and more-than-usual arrogant cockiness…

He wondered as to _who_ Blaine Anderson really was.

* * *

><p>Blaine went back to his apartment, guilt, embarrassment, and <em>resentment—<em>resentment topping all other emotions, eating him inside. He drove around town for a few hours and ate his cookies and drank his coffee by the park, hoping that he would have the chance to cool off, but to no avail.

With a frown, he dropped his keys by the coffee table, pressed the button to replay the messages left by his answering machine, and then shrugged his jacket off. He prodded towards the kitchen, soft footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor.

'_Message number one_

_Date: 13__th__ of February, 2013. Time: 05: 23 PM_

"_Blaine, this is Jeff! How're you man? I read your message. And I must say, this feels all too old-school! I'm swinging by to see if the other Warblers are up to it. Good to hear from you, dude. See ya." '_

There was a beep, indicating that the message was done. Blaine opened his refrigerator, scanning for any potential dinner meals. It was past dinner time, after all. His stomach growled. "Dammit", he ducked his head inside.

'_Message number two_

_Date: 13__th__ of February, 2013. Time: 06: 00 PM_

"_Blaine Anderson, why aren't you picking your phone up? Your Mother's worried. She told me that you were going to call her and—"_

Rushing towards it, he pressed the button, quickly skipping his Father's voice. Honestly, he didn't have enough energy to deal with him. He loved his Father, of course. He was kind to him, spoiled by him, and strict on him, expecting his _only_ son, his baby boy (his older sister was no good anyway), to continue the proud Anderson line.

What his Father didn't expect though, that his son was keeping something from him.

There were about six messages coming from his family members, telling him to go and call his Mother. Blaine rolled his eyes. You just _forget_ to call _one_ time, and everybody thinks you're dead. He was already _in College_, for god's sake! Blaine decided that she was going to call him later, before going to bed.

'_Message number eight_

_Date: 13__th__ of February, 2013. Time: 07: 34 PM_

"_Blaine? This is Wes. Listen. I'm afraid I can't come to the big V-day event. Apparently, I'm summoned by my grandfather in Vermont. Hopefully this one wouldn't end up as that horrid 'Gap Attack', though. Call me."_

Blaine sighed. A bit disappointed that Wes wouldn't be able to come. He received a text earlier that day that David wouldn't be coming either. He had one of those horrid week-long exams. And that meant, no David at all. He listened to the rest of the messages, almost all from the Warblers, saying who and who weren't available on that day.

By the time that he was finished going through his voice mails, Blaine's stomach growled once again. He sighed exasperatedly. He picked up a flyer from some restaurant. Picking up his phone, he slumped himself down the couch lazily.

_Chinese take-out_ it was. For dinner.

Blaine groaned, wishing that hopefully, praying that sincerely somehow, somehow…

…Tomorrow would turn out to be better.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was unexpected. Valentine's Day was supposed to take place in here! But the stupid businessman somehow managed to trigger the drama. *snorts* So Blainey's still in the closet, at least, to his family. And he has Daddy issues. **

**Stay tuned for the next one! It's **_**Valentine's Day!**_** And let me tell you, it's going to be posted shortly after this one. And it is **_**hilarious**_**. (Of course it is! This is **_**Blaine**_** we're talking about.)**

**Reviews are addicting. And if you managed to give me enough, I'd post it sooner. xD**

**Oh, and a preview for another AU I'm writing right now.**

**Title: A Royal Disguise (Temporary Title)**

**Summary: Blaine, the prince of England, never really wanted to be royalty. He wanted to be a commoner. He want to be normal. And so he persuades his parents to let him transfer somewhere to understand "the people" better-in Ohio State University. AU. (again, temporary Summer)**

**Based from the movie, "The Prince and Me." Approve or not? Tell me! And Review! :D  
><strong>


	6. Valentine's Day!

**A/N: Tumblr seems to be on the edge. What with Chris Colfer's adorable sea monkey costume, and Darren's Elephant with a bow tie costume. LOL. Well, here's the part you guys are waiting for! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own GLEE or any of its characters, or Starbucks, or even the song (not like I'm **_**ever**_** going to claim it)**

**WINTER—14****TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013 (**_**Valentine's Day**_**)**

* * *

><p><em>06: 03 AM<em>

_Thursday._

Blaine jumped out of bed, falling unto the ground. It was as if someone set the alarm off next to his hear, or as if he was dreaming that he was being chased by a dragon and he had no choice but to jump off from a building. With Wes gone, it was usually the latter. Somehow, Blaine managed to convince himself that _that_ was probably a normal way to wake up each morning—jumping out of bed as if you're on fire or something.

But today wasn't just _any_ ordinary day, and _no—_it wasn't Halloween or Christmas or one of the _Avenger_ movies showing in the cinema.

It was _Valentine's Day._

Blaine Anderson felt giddy and nervous and excited and scared out of his wits all at the same time. Since he was already out of bed, despite the fact that he had his 8 o' clock class later on, he decided to go over through his plans for the day _one_ last time (because the fact that he had spent reviewing the whole thing over and over again yesterday, until he went to bed at around _two_ in the morning wasn't still _enough_). "Okay, so classes first, then blah blah blah", he walked around his room, clad only in his boxers, as he began to mentally list everything. "Then go back home, then—"

His stomach grumbled.

"Oh god dammit", he growled, racing in towards the kitchen, "stupid metabolism. Stupid food. Ugh."

Taking out the carton of milk, and two pieces of eggs, and the ready-to-mix pancake, he laid them out all on the table, as he got the coffee ready.

"Okay, okay. You are Blaine Anderson, you could do this", Blaine muttered to himself as he whisked the beaten eggs in the bowl. And then he poured some milk, before mixing it further. "It's only 6 am. There are like, _fourteen_ hours and twenty minutes before the whole thing. There's loads of given time."

Setting the pan ready, he cut up a small block of butter, letting it melt as he grabbed another bowl for the pancakes. "That smells good. I wonder if Kurt would love pancakes."

As soon as his mind wandered to a certain glasz-eyed boy, his lips curled into one of those dopey lovesick grins. Blaine absentmindedly poured the hotcake mix into the pan as he flipped the omelet he was making in the other. _Multi-tasking_, yet another one of Blaine's impeccable talents.

While he was waiting for his breakfast to be finished, the curly haired guy closed his eyes briefly as he thought about Kurt. _Kurt Hummel_. Kurt Hummel and his on-the-spot quips. Kurt Hummel and his bitchy icy exterior. Kurt Hummel and his adorable flustered look. Kurt Hummel falling asleep on his shoulder. Kurt Hummel and his breath-taking eyes. Kurt Hummel and his kissable lips. Kurt Hummel and his great taste in fashion. Kurt Hummel and his fucking skin _tight_ jeans. Kurt Hummel and his perfect bod—Okay. So his thoughts lingered on dangerous waters—wait.

That was it. Fashion. _Clothes._

What the hell was he going to wear?

He spent the whole night perfecting _everything else_ and he forgot to perfect himself! Well, Blaine Anderson was already _perfect_. But it didn't hurt to become _more_ perfect, right? Especially if you were going to impress one snarky Kurt Hummel whose eyes would judge you first and foremost for what you were wearing.

Admittedly, if there's anything that Blaine sucked at—it was _clothes_. It wasn't because he hated _fashion_ or hated keeping up with the latest trends. Heck, he read Vogue most of the time and shopped at Topman, French Connection, Marc Jacobs, Ralph Lauren and all those famous brands of haute couture.

He just found it…a bit _troublesome_, is all.

"_Fuck_", he cursed out loud as panic bubbled inside him. "Oh my god. What am I going to wear? Oh my god. Oh my god. Shit. Out of all days!" And then he ran towards his bedroom, finding his wireless phone. As soon as his hands touched the black object, his fingers instinctively dialed a number.

"Come on pick up, pick up", Blaine muttered. He glanced at the clock. _6: 27 AM._

After the fifth ring, a familiar sleepy voice filled the line. "Hello?"

"Wes! Oh my god! What if it was an emergency? How could you let it go on for _five_ rings? What if—What if I was _dying_?"

Wes made some sort of grumble. "Clearly, the only thing you're dying of his sexual deprivation on one Mr. Pretty Blue Eyes which you haven't even told us his name yet. " Blaine heard some shifting. "Oh my god Blaine", Wes groaned, "It's only _6:30_ in the morning. _6:30_. why the hell would you bother me at this time? If I had my gavel with me right now, I will use it to pound your head through the phone."

Blaine grinned. "Nah, you wouldn't. You love me far too much."

"Unfortunately", Wes dramatically sighed, "So what is it? Did you call just to irritate me or did you forget how to open your refrigerator again?"

Embarrassment flooded Blaine's cheeks. "That was that _one_ time, Wesley!" He hissed. "And might I remind you that I was _half-asleep_ at that time?" You just make that one phone call during that one time when you suddenly panicked that your refrigerator door wouldn't open, only to find out that you've been opening it from the wrong side, and then what? They hold it as _blackmail_ against you forever.

"I'm still waiting for the reason."

"Do you know what day today is, Wes?" Blaine's excitement riled him up again. "Wait, no, don't answer that. Today is _Valentine's Day_! Today's the day I shall be showering Kurt with all my love and he'll say yes—"

"Oh so he _does_ have a name", he could hear the nasty grin on his voice, "Kurt. I like it. It's an unusual name. So what's the problem? From the massive group e-mails I've been included to, I take it that you're all well and prepared for this little…_surprise_ of yours. You know, lube and condoms and—"

"Wes! We're not at that stage…yet." He heard Wes snort. "Oh shut up, we're going for the chivalrous romantic type in here. Anyways, the only problem I have is that I _do not know what to wear_ for this special day. And see, Kurt's the type who well…He stares at what you wear from head to toe before he gets to decide you if he likes you or not."

"Huh. You sure know how to pick 'em Blaine. My memory warns me of the disastrous _'Gap Attack'_ we did—"

"Okay! Okay! Geeze, what is up with you bringing back old grudges huh? Just give me advice, and in return, I'll send you a box of Krispy Kreme before you leave for Vermont."

Wes quickly slipped into his _'Warbler Mode'_ persona. "Well, as your friend and mentor", Blaine raised his brow at this, "the only advice I could give you is…You should wear something _showy_, something for Kurt's eyes to feast on. And you should probably go commando too, you never know what might—"

"Goodbye Wesley", Blaine sighed as he hung the phone, remembering that his friend had absolutely _no filter_ when he was forcibly woken up in the wrong hour. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, only to smell that something was burning…And then, his fire alarm went off. "Oh _shit_, breakfast!"

And that was how Blaine Anderson spent his Valentine morning.

* * *

><p><em>1: 45 pm<em>

Blaine sighed.

There were only two periods left anyway. He tried to pay attention to his Literature class, really. But how could he so when the topic they were discussing, which was Mary Angelou's _On the Pulse of Morning_, was boring? It was tasteful and all, but he just wasn't in the _mood_ for it.

"Hey, Thad", he nudged his friend from _way back_, high school and all. Thad, a guy around Blaine's height, white and a soft yet somehow cold expression, merely raised his brow in annoyance. He continued taking notes.

Blaine continued. He knew that Thad would listen after all. "About later, what kind of…clothes do you think I should wear?"

Thad wrote for another moment, thinking as he did so. And then he shrugged. "Knowing you, you'd look good in anything actually. So clothes aren't really a problem. But if you're really mulling over it dramatically, as a certain pissed of Wes warned me of, then you should practically wear something comfortable enough, yet at the same time raise that cockiness—I mean, _confidence_ of yours."

Completely missing the little slip-up, Blaine clapped Thad in the back as the bell rang. "Thanks, man. See you for practice later." He ran off, ditzy and breathless.

Blaine had the perfect idea.

* * *

><p><em>6: 28 PM<em>

"Oh my god Blaine!" Jeff, another of Blaine's friends, cracked up in hysterical laughter as he caught sight of a scandalized ex-Warbler. "OH this is _priceless_! Wes and David would totally worship me for this!" He laughed again. "Nick! _Nick!_ Come here! Oh my god. Take a picture!"

If there was a Wes and David tandem, that would only be the Set A of the inseparable pairs from the Warblers group. Set B would be Nick and Jeff. Nick was a short guy, with a friendly face and an amiable aura. He popped his head from the doorway and gasped in horror, before he fell onto the floor, clutching at his stomach from laughing too much.

"What?" Blaine asked, irritated. What the hell were they doing here if they were only going to laugh at him? He glanced down at what he was wearing—navy blue, red, a necktie, and a blazer. It was respectable, and decent. The slacks may be a bit short on him (surefire proof that he had _increased _in height) and the blazer and the shirt were a bit small on him but otherwise, it was fairly okay. "What's wrong with my outfit?"

Jeff grasped at the nearest thing he could grab—Blaine's bookshelf. "It's the _Dalton Uniform_. Seriously Blaine?"

Heat flooded Blaine's cheeks. "What? Thad said something that gave me _'confidence'_. This gives me confidence", he frowned. "Plus, uniforms _are _sexy, right?"

Nick and Jeff glanced at each other before setting off in another round of obnoxious and annoying laughter. Glaring at the both of them, Blaine decided that well…It looked kind of _silly_. "I hate you guys", he grumbled as he untangled his neck tie.

* * *

><p><em>8: 20 PM<em>

Blaine took a deep breath. He peered in from the glass window of the café. Around this time, there were only a few people, mostly couples or late night office workers—it was a _holiday_ after all. He jumped a bit, startled, when he felt a pair of hands on his back. Turning back, he saw that it belonged to Jeff. Gratefully, they stared at one another. And there was only one thing that Blaine could be read from his friend's twinkling eyes—a silent _encouragement_.

With a nod, he signaled the other Warblers to enter the peaceful café. As six similarly dressed figures strode into the front door, hands clasped in front of them and chins held up high, Blaine fixed his black jacket, closed his eyes and tried to relax his body.

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy_

Blaine saw Kurt's jaw actually _dropped_. Quinn, taking an order from a customer, paused from what she was doing to look on. Mike chirped in from the back, hearing a weird a capella style of singing. The blonde and the brunette shared a glance. What were they going to do? They had _six_ grown men, college students, randomly showing up and then giving an impromptu performance. Were they suppose to give them money or something? But from the way Kurt saw their clothes with his trained eyes, he knew that based on the labels they were wearing, they probably didn't need money at all.

"_Have you ever had the feeling that you're drawn to someone?_" Blaine smoothly glided in the place,acting like he owned it. He carefully watched Kurt's reaction, and in return, Kurt watched him with utmost caution. At that exact moment, Quinn put two and two together and began to laugh out _really_ loud. "_And it isn't anything they could've said or done?_" Blaine leaned in the counter, staring at Kurt with utmost intensity, his eyes trying to convey a message.

_And everyday I see you on your own_

_And I can't believe your alone_

With this particular line, he went back to his place, in the middle of their usual Warbler style formation. They all did a little sidestep together, before Blaine shook his head dramatically, as if with disbelief that really, why the hell was someone as _gorgeous_ as Kurt still single? And then Blaine made a gesture of overhearing something before swiftly pointing at Quinn with his thumb.

_But I overheard your girls_

_And this is what they said, looking for a , looking for a_

For the chorus, all of them slided to just a few inches to their right, making a sweeping motion with their hands. Before turning their bodies to the right, all the while staring pointedly _at_ Kurt. Then, they all sang together, the different ranges of their voices mixing together, creating a rather beautiful harmony.

_That you're looking for a boyfriend, I see that_

_Give me time, you know I'm gonna be that_

_Don't be scared to come put your trust in me_

_Can't you see all I really want to be_

Blain ran a hand through his hair and then pointed at himself. When Kurt snorted at his action, Blaine winked at him cheekily, earning one of his favorite sights in the world—Kurt Hummel _blushing_. He didn't even notice that they were gaining _far too much attention._

"What in the world are they doing?" Kurt grumbled, feeling the heat spread downward his neck. His blonde friend rolled her eyes as she giggled. "He's asking you out, silly."

There little conversation was cut off when they saw the group of guys—and _Blaine_—began to do another round of sidesteps, glides, and snappings of the finger.

_Is your boyfriend, can't fight that_

_Knock me down, you know, I'm coming right back_

_I don't care at all what you've done before _

_All I really want is to be your_

That was when Blaine stepped back for a moment, joining the rather tall boys in the background as they continued to sing the line of _"Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_." Nick and Jeff, on the other hand, were having the time of their lives. They were dancing freestyle. Jeff was already down the floor, propping himself by an elbow as he made kicking motions, going around in circles. Nick raced towards the counter and did a little backflip, earning shouts and claps from their audience.

As the duo went back to the formation, Blaine decided that it was his time to shine again. He jumped towards a table, ignoring the gasps and shouts of surprise, before putting a finger unto his lips. "_Let me take a little moment to find the right words._" And then he jumped down, swaying his hips rather adorably, before doing a little airpump paired with a brief kick combo. "_So when I kick it you it ain't something that you've heard_", Blaine shook his finger in disagreement.

He rushed and ended up right in front of the counter, back pressed against the arm of Quinn's customer (a guy around his 20s). And with his big puppy dog eyes, Blaine pouted as he shrugged in sincere curiosity. "_I don't know what kind of guy you prefer_", he jumped on the counter, kneeling forward with eyes full of determination, _"But I know I gotta put myself for worse_." He jumped down, sending an apologetic look to a startled (and still flustered) Kurt, before joining his fellow Warblers.

"_See I think_", he pointed at his head, "_I got the love_", he made a heart shape on his chest, "_that you deserve"_, he then made a shooting motion with his hand. "_And I heard that—"_

They all sang together this time as they repeated the chorus.

_That you're looking for a boyfriend, I see that_

_Give me time, you know I'm gonna be that _

(Blaine was staring at Kurt with utmost seriousness as he sang this line)

_Don't be scared to put your trust in me_

_Can't you see all I really want to be_

There were two lines, three people in each, leaving Blaine in the middle and in the front.

_Is your boyfriend, can't fight that_

Blaine gave a little shrug at this. Meanwhile, the people behind him began to march a few steps to their left, and then paused, shaking their body to the beat their beatboxer was giving.

_Knock me down, you know, I'm coming right back_

The curly haired guy mock punched himself, as one column from his back did to the other, only to rise back from the attack.

_I don't care what you've done before_

_All I really want to be is your_

Blaine began to jump from table to table, chair to chair, twirling and being so dapperly _energetic_ that he encouraged other patrons of the café to jump up and clap their hands to the rhyhtm of the song. The Warblers swayed their bodies left and right, all the while repeating the lines of _"Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_."

With a slightly cocky expression on his face, Blaine jumped down from the table. And then he pivoted once, before gliding over the counter. _"If you tell me yeah, I'm waiting here_", he pointed to where he was at, _"Everyday like 'Slumdog Millionaire'". _He took a few steps back before straightening his jacket. "_Bigger than the 'Twilight' Love Affair'"_, Blaine shaped a bigger heart in the air as he wiggled his eyebrows at Kurt. "_I'll be here, boy, I swear", _he said seriously, crossing his heart and nodding. "_looking for a, looking for a—"_

He fell back in step with the Warblers as they all twirled in sync. And then they did yet _another_ sidestep-snap combo. But Blaine was happy enough, because Kurt's eyes _hadn't_ taken off of his movements ever since he entered the café.

_That you're looking for a boyfriend, I see that_

Blaine pretended to be cheeky (not that it was difficult or anything for him), as the guys behind him all kneeled down and pointed at him, so much for being _'discreet.' _ Quinn grinned and nudged Kurt, only to be brushed off in an extremely flustered manner.

_Give me time , you know I'm gonna be that _

_Don't be scared to put your trust in me_

_Can't you see all I really want to be_

Now all of them shifted into another position, obviously ignoring the pointed cellphone cameras at them. Nick and Jeff were now at Blaine's side, and the others all huddled into a single line behind them. They fell into a alternative pattern of posing in different positions, much to the crowd's delighted amusement.

Blaine emerged from the middle, focusing all of the attentiont to him, once again. He was singing to Kurt rather bluntly now. As the others repeated their dance steps from the earlier chorus.

_Is your boyfriend, can't fight that_

_Knock me down, you know, I'm coming right back_

_I don't care what you've done before_

_All I really want is to be your_

With that, Blaine suddenly went submerged himself in the group. Kurt sought for his form, subtly, because he wasn't going to give in and admit that his rather…adamant _stalker_ had interested him…Into some point. But there were only six guys, Blaine had vanished. Where did he run off to?

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend__(Your boyfriend)_

_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend__(Your boyfriend)_

_All I really want is to be your__(Boyfriend)_

And then, as the totally annoying cliché for-teen-girls song was nearing to its end, the group divided itself into two lines as they repeated the stanza of "_Your boy, boy, b-b-boy, b-b-boyfriend_" one last time.

Upon singing the last line, Kurt's heart jumped as he watched Blaine slide through the floor by his knees in the middle, holding the most _amazing_ and _beautiful_ bouquet of _red roses_ (Valentine's cliché aside). When the song was finished, Blaine stood up, dusted his knees, and then presented the flowers to Kurt. The porcelain angel noted how Blaine's expression shifted to nervous uncertainty before collecting himself back to its brazen appearance.

Meanwhile the Warblers eyed Kurt with interest, as if he was the shiny new toy their overexcited alpha puppy was catching.

"So, Kurt", Blaine cleared his throat, "be my boyfriend?" He slapped himself internally as he saw Kurt visibly tense. But he couldn't take the words back now.

Kurt accepted the bouquet. A pretty hue of pink dusted his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Blaine…I don't think I'm ready for a relationship, as of now", he bit his lip as he stared at the boy's crestfallen expression. Kurt knew that Blaine was very sweet and all, arrogance and narcissism aside. But with his history and personality as well as Blaine's obvious obliviousness to the real world…It just wouldn't work out.

The crowd went _'Awww…'_ at the heartbreaking scene.

Jeff frowned and slipped Nick a ten dollar bill.

"Well…I already _knew_ that", Blaine tried again, "but could you be you know…My Valentine? And I don't know… Go out for coffee with me this Saturday?" He tilted his head. "Please?" His voice gaining in pitch up to the last word, eyes wide and lips in a pout, and if Kurt knew better, Blaine's tail was wagging enthusiastically, if he were a dog.

Kurt bit his lip again, looking unsure. He gazed at Quinn, who hands down urged him to say yes, Mike was nudging Kurt to go for it, and even the other customers were telling him to just say _'Yes'_. It amazed him that none of them were actually disgusted or shunned them for publicly (and loudly) declaring their attraction to the same gender. It really made Kurt love New York all the more.

"Dude, what are you waiting for?" The guy on Quinn's lane sighed with exasperated anticipation.

Everybody was holding their breath.

Blaine now knew at that exact moment, how it felt like when a guy just proposed to his loved one—it was nerve wrecking.

To break the suffocating tension, Kurt let out a slightly hysterical laugh. His hair was a mess, his eyes were electrifying blue, and his cheeks were flushed—Blaine found him more than _beautiful_ at that unguarded moment. "Anything but _coffee_ Blaine", he whispered shyly, and just like that the whole crowd erupted in cheers and applause. "—and yes, I'd love to be your Valentine."

The Warblers all hooted and wildly yelled for success (and not humiliating their selves for the _second_ time).

Nick huffed as he slipped two ten dollar bills to a smug Jeff.

Quinn was bubbling with happiness as she hugged the frozen Kurt. Mike grinned as he shook his head, muttering about _'watching too much chick flicks'_.

And Kurt and Blaine?

They were happily standing there, gazing at each other. Warm liquid butter caramel colored eyes clashing against vibrant ocean blue ones. Blaine's usual smirk was replaced by a real smile. And _god_, it felt good to simply smile like that. And Kurt returned that smile with a dopey half-grin and half-smile of his own, uncharacteristically off for a reserved person like him.

But who cared?

For the first time ever, after all the shit of their lives so far…

_Finally._

_Finally_, something _right_ happened.

They deserved it. They _definitely_ deserved it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Told you guys it would be long. :P So like, I'm slowly progressing a steady update for my fics. : I'm happy about that. And how was this chapter? xD Told you it would be hilarious. And the song. OHMYGOD. The song. *cackles* **

**So, those of you interested, this would be the pattern of my updates: Under Your Skin (Last Chapter), TPDAS (Chapter Six), Welcome to Burlesque (yes, I'm updating it), then possibly either KUD or HTGGDI. :P Or Just a Coincidence. Any of those. It depends on what story has more reviews. **

**Thanks for those who added this to their Favorites/Story Alert list! And those who reviewed!**

**Reviews and I'll update quickly. :) Bye then! Happy November!**


	7. I Spy with my little eye

**A/N: It's hard to multi-task. I write according to my mood. But what sucks more is that my mood shifts as easily as…Well…A chameleon blending in the background. XD Thank you to all those who reviewed, and added this to their Favorites/Story Alert. Now, ONWARDS!**

* * *

><p>Wes had known Blaine for eight years now.<p>

Wes, along with David, had been friends with said guy for approximately seven years.

He knew the hobbit like the back of his hand.

He had been there all the ups and downs. He had been there when Blaine transferred. He had been there for Blaine's first Warbler audition. He had been there all throughout Blaine's relationships—from Andrew, Josh, Jeremiah, and Sebastian all the way to this—this mysterious _Kurt_.

He had seen Blaine cry, laugh, and smile, get angry (more than usual), get frightened and all other known human emotions, as well as the mix of any of the two to three emotions mentioned. The three of them were a group, an inseparable trio. Jokingly, his friends called David his _'life partner'_. And Wes had grown fond of the title. After all of the things they've been through together, it was deemed appropriate. If David was his life partner, then they were going to adopt Blaine Anderson as their _'son'._

A rather arrogant, cheeky, over confident, enthusiastic, oblivious, dapper _'son'_, one that Wes would want to test the sturdiness of his gavel on.

But aside from all the superficialities, if there was one thing Wes noticed about his best friend, and if there was one thing Wes _hasn't_ seen before…

It was Blaine Anderson falling in love.

* * *

><p><strong>WINTER—15<strong>**TH**** OF FEBRUARY, 2013**

_06: 38 AM_

Fridays were absolute heaven dropped _miracles_ for David Harley. His college was more or less five to ten minutes away by car. His classes begin at around _nine_ in the morning, abruptly ending at around noon, since he only had two periods to sit in.

He was in the middle of a wonderful dream, free of curly gelled puppies or chinky-eyed uptight birds with gavels in their beaks. Unfortunately, a rather annoying phone call woke him up. He let it ring three more times before deciding the name of his caller. Because come on, who _else_ would bother him at this early hour?

'_I will murder you.'_

David rolled his eyes. "Good morning to you too Wesley", he snapped. "It's very nice to know that you woke me up at a rather ungodly hour to listen to your threats."

'_You didn't pick up when I rang _twice_, and I know you were already awake on the first ring Harley!'_

"See? See? This is why I signed those divorce papers", David shook his head. God, he felt like banging his head against a hard surface. Wes was insufferable during the morning. And Wes without his caffeine in the morning is like Jeff and Blaine missing an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

'_Fine, I'll overlook it this time'_, Wes huffed. _'And don't use the word _'divorce papers'_ at me. If Jessica catches those words from you, she'll really think that we're in a relationship. And in return, Jessica will tell Veronica, they'll dump us. And to further mock us of our loss, they'll start dating each other, and then they'll send us pictures or videos of the two of them making out or something.'_

Fully awake, David didn't really know if he was supposed to be happy or sad about the consequences. The mention of two girls making out…The decision was close—_real_ close. "Fine, fine. Why, pray tell, did you call this early then? You _do_ know that my classes begin later at nine. And I know for the fact, that yours begin at around nine thirty."

'_Have you heard anything from Blaine at all? From his great 'V-day surprise'_' David chuckled as he could feel the air quotes around the words. _'I've heard from the other Warblers present. But nothing from Blaine at all. And he called me the around the same time I called you this morning, David. He was practically having a panic attack over his _clothes_. It was horrible. My eardrum was damaged.'_

He raised his eyebrow. "Maybe—so wait, you called me _this_ early just to get back at what Blaine did to you yesterday?"

Silence, and then a short _'Yes.'_

"You're insufferable."

'_So I've been told. Now answer my question.'_

David got out of his bed, finding it useless to go back and trying to sleep. Plus, he figured that this conversation would last longer than it should. "No, actually. That's rather odd of him. Doesn't he usually report things to you in…_detail_?" He shuddered at some of the rather awkward conversations with Blaine his mind conjured. "And yes, Thad was complaining to me last night about Blaine's rather annoying perfectionist attitude resurfacing. But the whole thing was a success though."

Wes was quiet for a moment. The other took this opportunity to walk towards the main hallway of his rather spacious flat. He pressed a button, letting the kitchen of the hotel know that he was awake and ready for breakfast. "Wes?"

'_Sorry, I was thinking. Don't you think that…Blainey's acting rather…strange, lately?'_

"Wes", David sighed, "we both agreed that it's due to Blaine's excessive use of hair gel."

'_No, not that one, you idiot. I meant…I don't know. I feel that something's…off. And all he could ever jab about is that Kurt guy. Look at Jeff, Nick, Thad, Trent and the other Warblers, they _met_ him already. And us? We didn't even get the chance to at least _see_ him, David.' _Wes scoffed. _'Plus, Blaine seems kind of down, lately. I think he's Father's calling up to check on him more often.'_

Another moment of silence passed between them, letting the words sink in. Both of them knew about Blaine's complex situation with his Father. And they both experienced first-hand what the curly haired Warbler was like when he was in one of those _'depressed'_ cycles. Usually, he had a very accurate playlist for each emotion he was feeling.

"Well, there's one way to solve this then. We'll kill two birds with one stone: do a little interrogation about yesterday, and as well as investigate Blaine's weird behavior."

'_How exactly would we do that?'_

Seeing as David's breakfast had arrived, he grabbed his robe and hastily fastened it before returning to the dining area. But before he could freely fill his growling stomach, he quickly instructed Wes as his mind's gears planned its schedule for the day.

"Be prepared in less than an hour. We'll drop by and see Blainey-oh."

* * *

><p><em>07:53 AM<em>

Their trust had gone far enough as that Blaine actually gave the both of them a copy of the key to Blaine's apartment. David had the common sense to stop by Starbucks (where a _gorgeous_ blonde was the one at the counter), since he was the _only_ one out of the three of them who didn't have caffeine addiction running in his veins.

They stealthily crept in, knowing fully that the other was _still_ asleep. Blaine after a performance or a competition was like a kid coming down from sugar rush. With an evil smirk, Wes acted like a ninja. He rolled down the floor, stood up, and pressed his back flatly against the wall, his eyes suspiciously darting left and right. David rolled his eyes and placed the coffee cups on the table in Blaine's living room. He accidentally sat on the remote, and figuring it'll take about three minutes for Wes to wake him up, watching TV would probably the best way to kill some time (and distract Blaine's wrath of fury on Wes).

A few seconds later, a girlish scream resonated from the bedroom, followed by a dull thump, and then Wes' unmistakable hysterical laughter. Some mumbling followed in after, and then a screeching of "_WES!"_

Just like that, the usually uptight Wes had been reduced to a ten-year old kid. He ran quickly and dived unto the sofa, earning a gasp from David, and then he grabbed the pillow cushion by his feet, using it to protect himself from whatever wild curly mess of a monster that was soon emerge from Blaine's room.

"_Wes! I am going to _kill _you!"_ They finally heard Blaine's battle cry.

The Asian giggled before he took one glance at his best friend. "David, thou shall protect me right? _Right?_ Oh my god. He's coming!"

"Wesley Montgomery, how old are you really—oh", Blaine stopped once he caught the scent of caffeine floating in the air. Gingerly, he took it from David's outstretched hand. "Thank you." And just like that, after sipping and heaving out a satisfied sigh, he lazily sat down one of the unoccupied seats.

David opened a bag of freshly baked bagels. "Good morning Blaine", he greeted him with a smile, "here. Have some. I know that the last time you cooked breakfast, you nearly burned down the whole kitchen."

Scoffing, Blaine eagerly grabbed one and took a huge bite before sipping his Medium Drip. David observed his friend. Wild curls freely bouncing to all directions, bright hazel eyes, a little afternoon stubble on his chin, along with his Harry Potter pajamas, Blaine looked like an overgrown kid.

"I did _not_", Blaine finished his first bagel, "it was Wes' fault." He glared at the now bored Wes. With a shrug, the Asian just picked his own cup and hastily finished it. "What are you guys doing here by the way? Shouldn't you be asleep or something? Your classes begin—what time is it?"

"It's around ten minutes past eight, I think", David calmly stated as he sipped his own beverage.

"Oh…Holy _shit_!" Blaine suddenly jumped up his seat, startling Wes and almost knocking down the paper bag that contained the food. "I'm _late!_ I'm fucking late!" He began running to the direction of his bedroom, removing his top and carelessly throwing it somewhere.

"Doesn't your period begin not until later at nine?" Wes shouted as he entered Blaine's bedroom, distastefully surveying the scattered clothes and abandoned books all over his room. Blaine's head quickly appeared from the bathroom doorway. "Yeah, it does. But I have a soccer practice to attend to. We have a match on Sunday." After which, he closed the door.

Rolling his eyes, Wes laid down his bed. "How was the serenading yesterday, Blaine?"

"It was a success. Now kindly shut up Wes. I need to focus on how to looking like a half-decent human rather than a drowned caveman in less than ten minutes."

* * *

><p><em>01: 48 PM<em>

Everything was set for the afternoon—some snacks, his 17" plasma television, some James Bond movies, and finally, a time for some _peace _and _quiet._ No family members breathing on his neck about his academics. No girlfriend yapping continuously. No Warbler reunions to organize. No curly haired best friends demanding his attention. And most of all, no Asian—

His cell phone vibrated. He frowned.

_**Pick me up at around 4. –Wes **_

David snorted. Speak of the devil. Why should he pick him up? Wes had a perfectly functioning car of his own.

_**Why should I? **_

After waiting for a few minutes, David figured that his friend was in the middle of a lecture. So he set his phone right next to him as he hit the play button. He was already in the part where Eva Greene was introduced when he felt a slight vibration.

_**Up for some spying? –Wes **_

David didn't ask any more questions after that.

* * *

><p><em>04: 17 PM<em>

"Where is he? It's already almost twenty minutes past four and he's _never _late", David whined as they sat in the car, the engine turned off, casually observing passersby. "What do you think about that, Agent Wes?"

Wes snorted at the nickname. "Well, considering the forty-minute arrival of our dear Blaine Anderson during his _first_ date and the one-hour early arrival of his café trips in his stalker days on Jeremiah during our junior year— then I know for a fact that he must be serious about this one."

"Blaine? Blaine _Anderson_? Serious? About this one?"

"Was it necessary to repeat everything I've said, David?" The Asian sighed exasperatedly. "If he's not serious about this one, then maybe he's got that Kurt guy wrapped around his finger already and he's only playing hard to get?"

"Kurt guy? Wrapped around his finger? Already? Playing hard to—oops, sorry", David sweetly grinned at the annoyed glare he sent his way. And while Wes opened his mouth to verbally assault his best friend, David spotted a familiar guy of short stature with an overly gelled hair. He jumped a bit in his seat as he pointed Blaine. "He's _here_! And he's…he's _walking_, Wes. Just…walking."

"I think he took the bus again, he had grown to like riding that."

It wasn't the fact that Blaine had the ability to _walk_ that astounded them. It was the fact that their friend took the liberty of taking the bus over his sports car. And in the tax bracket that the three of them belonged to, _that_ was a very rare occurrence. They grew up in affluent families who have never experienced riding the subway or even ordering Chinese takeout after all.

They sat there, mouths slightly agape. And when Blaine finally entered the café, Wes was the first one to snap out. "Blaine just entered. Good thing we had Thad ask about his whereabouts after class. Shall we go and spy some more, my dear David? I want to see what this Kurt kid looks like. Make sure he's not one of those gold diggers or douches who would undoubtedly hurt Blaine in less than a heartbeat. Let's go, we still need to take a mug shot of him. Something we could use as blackmail later on."

David stared at the other as if he grew two heads. "Chillax Wesley. At this rate, you'll grow obsessed with him as badly as Blaine already has." He pulled some items from his bag and passed some of them to Wes. He ignored the indignant sound the other produced.

"I am _not_ putting that on." Wes crossed his arms. "Are you crazy? We'll look even more suspicious."

He pouted. "This is _required_. We are spying after all, Wesley."

"You've been watching way too many James Bond movies", Wes accused.

* * *

><p><em>04: 25 PM<em>

"What do you think he's doing? He keeps on pacing back and forth the tall guy how many times now", a man wearing a black bonnet, black sunglasses pushed down the ridge of his nose, and a black scarf, peered over the newspaper he was holding. "I can't see his face—he has chestnut brown hair though."

He was seated across a guy wearing round eyeglasses, a red bow, and a clearly fake mustache. Said guy was still moodily tracing shapes upon the table. "Oh, no doubt he's trying to say a cheesy pick-up line like _'Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I pass by you again?'_ "

David, the one wearing a complete black ensemble, snorted.

"I still can't believe we're wearing this. We look utterly _ridiculous_", Wes gritted his teeth. He was itching to remove the mustache, it was tickling his nose, and he despised the feeling.

Ignoring his friend's discomfort, David nonchalantly drew something from the leather satchel he brought along with him. And then he set it to his eyes, pointing them towards the counter. "Looks like the guy just blew him off", David narrated. "Blaine smoothly glides back to recover from the slight rejection and mortification he has faced. But from the evident skip in his strides, it seems that he has _not_ yet given up."

"_David_", Wes hissed, "is that—why, pray tell, did you decide to bring _binoculars_? Way to go being subtle."

The taller merely shrugged. "You said it was a spy mission." He went back to observing. "Now, Blaine has his eyes locked with the tall, pale, chestnut brown haired guy whose face I have yet to see. Clearly, Blaine's charms didn't work on him, so now he relies on his ability to eyefuck anybody to make them give in."

"_David!_ What are you doing? He's going to notice, you idiot! And stop describing everything as if this was a documentary on National Geographic Channel or something."

"And now the rare species of a hafling had his attention—oh _shit_." David gently put away his spying gadget. He gave a weak wave. "Hi Blaine."

* * *

><p><em>04: 30 PM<em>

Wes and David were seated together, their silly disguises removed.

Blaine, who sat across David, was frowning at the both of them. He had his brows pulled in together, and his arms crossed. Somehow, when Blaine was like this, David really did feel disappointed about what he did. He was sure Wes felt the same way. Both of them had their heads hung low and Wes was chewing his bottom lip off.

"What the hell are you two doing here?" the shorter growled.

David nudged Wes. Out of irritation, Wes elbowed David. Blaine glared at the Asian man. "Geeze, lighten up Blaine. David and I just came here to check out who this _'Kurt'_", he air quoted the name, "really is. Who knows if he guy's a gold digger or a stripper at night or even a—a—"

"—a _spy_ under cover", David helpfully said. Wes and Blaine blankly stared at him. "What? You can't be too sure."

Wes resumed his tirade. "What I'm saying is, as a _friend_ of yours, you should be careful Blaine. You fall too easily and that leaves you quite gullible at times. And that's we're we come in", he gestured himself and David, "we support you yet at the same time keep an eye out for you. And already enough, I could see that this Kurt, he's—he's different from all your other little conquests. From the moment you met him on the bus you kept on jabbering on and on about how it was fate and all—"

"Not to mention _'Teenage Dream'_ on loop", David filled in.

"And singing that song from Moulin Rouge, _'Your Song'_, chattering about _'his mesmerizing ever changing blue, green, and greyish eyes.'_'

"Don't get me started on the _stalking_."

Blaine flushed. "Shut it. I was _not_ stalking him", he saw David's mouth opening to protest, "_Okay!_ Maybe I got a bit obsessed. But so what? You guys know that I get a little…enthusiastic when I've got the hots for somebody."

"'_Got the hots for somebody'_? Really, Blaine?" Wes chuckled. But then it died down when the curly haired guy threw him a stern look. He coughed slightly. "Nah, you're _whipped_, man. Whipped."

Blaine scoffed, and then rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. He had the uncanny resemblance of a prissy primadonna at that moment. "Okay, fine. I'll admit that he's sort of kinda maybe just a little bit…_more_ gorgeous than my past histories. But that's what makes it more interesting…He's a hell lot of challenging than any other person I've tried to get with me so far."

"Yeah", David snorted, "we've noticed", he referred to the recent pick-up line rejection.

On the other hand, Wes seemed nonplussed. "I don't know", he stroked his imaginary beard.

"Well, if you really want some evidence", David evilly grinned at Blaine's bewildered stare, "I _did_ see this washed Starbucks cup with the words _'Hazel eyes'_ written on it."

Wes cracked up rather loudly, earning stares from the other patrons. "Oh my fucking god. That is _gold_. Really, Blaine? '_Hazel eyes'_? " The Asian man snorted. "What are you, in middle school or something? What's next? You're going to carve your initials on a tree?"

"What?" Blaine snapped. "I just preserved it as a memento of victory _since_ it was the first time that he actually showed interest in me!"

Wes shrugged. "Like I said, _whipped_."

"Oh bugger off, Wes. It's not like you didn't undergo through a momentary lapse of sanity like I—oh wait. My bad, it seems as if your sanity didn't come back at all after Monica agreed that she'll go out with you."

David cringed. The wooing stage of Wes' love life was not a fun topic to bring about—actually, it was kind of traumatizing. Not a casual subject to go over coffee. It was taboo.

And to say it that way was similar to saying to a cow that it was fat.

As soon as the words were out, Wes' eyes widened as his mouth dropped, agape. He set his drink down harshly. "Oh I see where this is going", he sneered. "Well, at least I didn't go randomly serenading the people I like in their work place and more or less terrorize their customers away with my overly gelled hair and my 50s dance moves!"

"Hey! I was pretty successful this time!"

"That's because you weren't wearing your Dalton Uniform!"

Blaine's cheeks colored. "Nick and Jeff told you?" His pitch rose at the end of the question.

"No", Wes snickered, "Nick and Jeff _showed_ me your picture. They said that you were going to lure Kurt and serenade him with your sex voice and eyefuck him during the entire performance wearing your oh so seductive blue blazer with red piping. Not everybody has a school boy kink, my dear Blainey boy."

Just then, a tinkling laugh could be heard from their table. And Blaine, having heard of it once before (with him being the root of said amusement), could definitely say as to whom that lovely voice belonged to. He strained his neck, looking over Wes and David, his eyes automatically seeking the counter—and he was correct.

Quinn was watching the whole scene.

Quinn heard _everything_.

Their eyes met for a brief second. She bit her lip and winked at him, as if conveying that she now knew _his_ secret. And that Kurt was just standing right next to her that second.

"Oh _shit_", he cursed under his breath. Hanging his head down low, he tried to cover the side of his face with his hand. "Um, guys, could we just continue this argument at my place?"

"Why? Afraid that you're going to be embarrassed by your needy pathetic friends because they're mad at you for not telling the result of the Valentine's Day serenade yesterday? "

"Wes, Wes", Blaine pleaded. "Look, okay, I'm sorry that I was a douche for not calling you like what we agreed to yesterday. I was a jackass. And I've been a jerk today as well, since you guys were just looking out for me. And yes, I'm head over heels for this guy", he plainly ignored the squealing expressions of his friends. "So could we go now?"

"No, no. Fat chance. You just admitted that you liked him."

"Could you repeat your speech again?" David held a tiny recorder close to Blaine's mouth. Glancing over his friend's shoulder, he could see that Quinn was definitely giggling at what happened. Could it be that she heard his untimely confession? That possibility alone made him swallow his heart back down.

The tallest among the three of them caught sight of what their dearest friend was glimpsing at. He let out a low whistle. "Damn, Blainers. You know this chick?"

Curiously, Wes did the same thing and nodded in appreciation. He was going to comment about Blaine's sudden change in his preferences when he discerned the slight apprehensive expression on his face. He glanced back and saw that the blonde girl was talking to someone—it was the tall kid with chestnut brown hair. A customer in line was blocking his view. Could this be the _Kurt_ that Blaine was so hung up about?

"Don't you have Veronica—"Blaine abruptly stopped talking. Because lo and behold, the _busboy_ (who was just a mere cashier two seconds ago) was none other than _his_ angel. With a small smile, he absentmindedly grabbed a paper napkin and got a pen from the breast pocket of his jacket. "That's Quinn. Kurt's friend."

Intrigued by his friend's sudden change in attitude, David carefully paid attention to all of his actions, down to his expressions. And then he noticed what Blaine had hastily scribbled unto the napkin. He had a hard to reading, considering that it was facing the opposite direction.

_Your eyes are blue, like the ocean. And baby, I'm lost at sea._

David internally rolled his eyes.

"Shouldn't we go now? It is Friday today, isn't it?" Blaine inquired, pushing the secret message towards the edge of the table, until it fell down the floor. David took note that he did it intentionally.

"Yeah, give me just a second. Veronica just texted and I have to reply to her immediately or else I would be producing a very incoherent response. And I don't think she's going to be happy with that."

The busboy turned—it was the tall guy with the perfectly coiffed chestnut brown hair, David observed. But then the guy was somewhat pretty…for a guy. He had flawless pale skin which reminded him of porcelain. His eyes were greenish gray with the flecks of blue in them, overall giving a mesmerizing eye color. His cheeks were dusted with a pinkish hue, deepening to a reddish color when Blaine and his (breath taking) eyes met. His lips were thin and pink. Taken as a whole, it left the impression that the busboy was a cross breed between a cherub and an eleven year old milkmaid or something.

Bending down, the busboy frowned at Blaine for a moment and then picked up the napkin.

Blaine waited.

David watched.

And just like that, the guy's faced resembled a tomato. From the tips of his ears down to his neck, everything was flushed with a delectable shade of red.

Blaine let out a full-blown grin, his eyes not daring to break the eye contact.

And David? David finally got it.

The busboy was _Kurt_.

"I'm done now! And hey Blainers, today's Friday which means…It's movie night! And expect that David and I are going to be crashing at your place up until Monday night—we don't have classes till then."

Without taking his eyes off of Kurt, who was now scrubbing the table top furiously with the same adorable flustered expression, Blaine nodded. "Yeah, cool. I don't really mind. I invited Nick, Jeff, Jon, and Thad though."

_Kurt_ peeked from underneath his long eyelashes and bit his lip as he saw Blaine smiling at him. He tried to smile but it only ended up as a sort of awkward grimace. Embarrassed, he buried his face into his hands as he regained what was left of his dignity before continuing what he was doing.

Wes stood up. "Let's go then. We still need to swing by the rental store to see if they have anything new. I've always wanted to go to a movie rental store. I still think it's kind of awesome. We're going to have pizza right?" Blaine absentmindedly nodded. "Sweet. Now, off we go. We still have to discuss the future of this Kurt and his tentative relationship with Blaine. We still don't approve of him, do we David?"

David thought about the way Blaine looked at Kurt and the way Kurt returned that look to Blaine. He thought about the cheesy pick-up lines, the rejections, and the seemingly contradicting bitchy yet easily flustered character Kurt had. He thought about Blaine's obsession growing as far as keeping Kurt's ever first compliment to him. He thought about the pair's secret glances, the smiles, the wordless conversation through their eyes…

"I think that Blaine's going to be just fine, Wes", he nodded his head.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Ugh. My new schedule for this semester sucks. And here you go! It's long. It's written from a POV of someone else. And it's most likely a long rambling form of a filler. So yeah.**

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